Seymour's Reason
by McKenna Marvin
Summary: COMPLETE. Seymour is not as hard as you may think: living the life that he had, it would be hard to blame him for his trespasses. Then again...
1. Mother

Please enjoy this fanfiction, my first of many to come.

And review too So that I can make changes appropriate in the next chapter! Thank you!

Seymour x Yuna

Info:

Name: Seymour Guado

Age: 28

Height: 7"

Birthplace: Guadosalam

Overdrive: Requiem

Part 1: "Life is but a passing dream, but the death that follows is eternal."

Shoulders slung in tired heat, he feel to the ground, his knees shaking uncontrollably. It's not the first time his muscles burned from weakness and the draining of his mental power.

"Get up." His mother spoke softly from the dark corner of the temple, "Get up, Seymour."

"I can't move, Mother, I can't!" Tears poured from his eyes for the past three hours, and fresh tears meant nothing now. His face was smeared with sweat and grit. "I can't move…"

"Seymour, you have to become strong enough." Her eyes glowed in the darkness.

The young child cried and cried, pounding his fists on the ground in anger and frustration. "I don-don't have it in me!"

"Yes you do, Seymour." His mother walked to him, her shoes clicking on the stone floor, echoing down the hallway of stone figures in the Baaj Cloister of Trials. Their silent faces seemed to leer at mother and child in the darkness.

"You have to be strong. Your father banished us here for Yevon only knows why… you must show him you're strong – show Spira you're strong," She knelt to him, "Show me that you are strong."

With a newfound will, he pushed himself from the granite floor with shaking fists. His 8 year-old Guado frame shook with new found resolve. "Alright Mother, one more time."

Rising with her child in the dark, she commanded him loudly: "FIRAGA!"

The dark was illuminated at once by magic, bursting from the depths of Seymour's uniquely large hands as he gestured them – as if pulling an invisible boulder from the ground with every fiber of his strength, hands rising, shaking from the weight of the magic.

"MORE SEYMOUR!" She bellowed as light grew at an enormous rate in the passageway.

His hands trembled and every muscle in his body burned like the fire he controlled in his wake. Knees buckling and crashing on the ground, he did not give up, heightening the magic every second, his veins pulsating with hot blood, his eyes a hot amethyst. The great fire rose and rose, enveloping the great stone room with only Seymour and his mother untouched.

The heat was unbearable, and he grit his teeth in the blaze. Crying out in release, his small, fragile voice cracked in exhaustion. His mother, although a strong figure was noticeably sweating, but stared at her son continually, watching his progression earnestly. Her dark hair whipped around in the fire's breath.

She watched as his claw like hands rose above his head shaking, releasing the magic inside him to his fullest power. Beads of sweat and streams of tears poured down the side of his face and his sharp eyes never lost concentration on the blaze he was producing. She could not imagine the pain and focus he went through to create these magical spells. She only knew that he had to become stronger to face his father in the future.

"ENOUGH!" She yelled, her mouth the only thing moving. And as soon as she had roared her command, the inferno ceased instantaneously. Seymour collapsed on the floor in a heap of silk robes and sweat.

"Seymour." His mother went to his side, touching the back of his neck, slick with perspiration and dirt.

But Seymour didn't respond. His hoarse breathing and trembling limbs were enough of an answer to his mother, who reached inside her coral blue dress and retrieved a green luminescent bottle. Inside the teardrop shaped bottle was a beautifully yellow-gold liquid that sparkled in the dark corridors.

"Seymour, drink this." She turned her son over and placed the lip on the opening of his chapped lips. She gently tipped the glass until the shining liquid poured down his scathed mouth and scorched throat. His eyes opened slowly, revealing to his mother the brightness in his determined gaze.

"Mother…" He spoke softly, "I'm still not as strong as you want…"

"No son. But you're trying."

The liquid was completely drained from the bottle after moments and Seymour rose to his feet, with still remaining exhaustion, but with determination none-the-less. He faced his mother, looking up at her as she rose to her feet. She took his hand in hers and led him to the doors of the Fayth.

"There is no Fayth here, son."

He nodded quizzically. He already knew this.

She continued, opening the stone doors and looking inside the dark round room, "There is no Fayth here. But there will be soon."

"What do you mean? Is one going to come here?" Seymour asked weakly.

"No Seymour. No."

The room was drafty and droplets of condensation echoed and dripped in the abandoned gloom. There was a large bulge in the center of the room, as if someone blew a bubble underneath the stone tiles, and it hadn't quite yet popped.

Seymour's mother walked to the center of the mound and faced Seymour, who braced himself against the wall at the entrance. He looked at his mother, waiting for her next words. She was a pillar of strength in his eyes and he watched her intently, waiting for the climax of her explanation.

"Seymour, my son. There is no Fayth here yet, but I am about to bestow upon you the greatest gift I can give to you as your mother."

Seymour's hand slipped from the stone wall in exhaustion.

She clasped her hands to her chest in prayer, a sudden divine wind rustling her raven hair. She closed her eyes and the mound beneath her began to glow with yellow light.

By some unsaid understanding, Seymour looked at his mother in horror of his sudden realization.

"No! No! Mother! I know what you must be doing, and you mustn't!" Seymour fell to his knees at the entrance to the room, tears erupting from his eyes, "I need you mother! I need you here with me! I'll get stronger, I promise, don't leave me!"

Crying and looking up at his mother, he stretched out a fatigued hand to her, but she remained at the center of the source of light. Her feet rose off the ground lightly and she opened her eyes in prayer: "Seymour, listen to me now. You will be stronger with my Aeon inside you. You will help to defeat the evil in this world and become a great leader. I want this of you, my son."

She smiled warmly to him as the light emanating from beneath her played on her pristine face. Beads of light emitted from her chest, where her hands were firmly clasped. Her body turned in beautiful motion, as she became a part of the stone floor, sinking into the light beneath her as if it were a pool of reflective gold. As her shoulders began to submerge, her last words to him echoed ethereal and distant in the corridor: "All you need to do is call upon me, and I will be there."

As the tip of her head and long hair sank beneath the surface of the shining surface, Seymour found new strength, and while on his knees, began to pray. It was hard for him to accept that his mother was becoming and Aeon for him but he had to be strong: he bowed his head, and closed his eyes. The light was still shinning in the darkness from her departure.

Through hiccups and tears, he spoke aloud to his mother, in whatever place she was: "Mother, don't leave me, I need you here with me…I can't be by myself down here… not with out you."

And from the source of light in the center of the circular room rose a small orb, and as Seymour prayed, it moved swiftly to him, in a zigzag path, and entered his heart, where a pleasant warmth glowed inside him. He opened his eyes, and as the light dimmed he spoke out loud to himself and to his mother: "I will be stronger Mother, I promise!" He cried again in the lonely confines of the forgotten temple: "I PROMISE!"

Thank you for reading, and enjoy the next chapter! chants "REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!"


	2. Father

Enjoy part II: Seymour returns home after a long struggle through Spira…

**Part II: "Why are you still here, sir?**"

He pushed the doors open to his home in Guadosalam. His feet and hands, face and robes were covered in soot and dirt, and he fell in a heap on the floor, at the foot of his servant, Tromell, who held the door, face aghast and heartbroken.

"Your Grace!" Tromell breathed, picking up the young boy and slinking his tired body into his arms, "We must get you cleaned up before Master Jyscal sees you here – like this!"

Seymour didn't respond, and looked through blurry vision up at his manservant: "Tromell – Mother…"

But before the young boy could finish his words, his accumulated exhaustion took over his body at last and he fell into a sleep that lasted for many days.

Tromell looked after him in Seymour's bedroom. For such a young child, it was a beautifully furnished room, in shades of dark blues and greens, with curtains of sheer fabric hanging from atop the ceilings and to the floor. Branches from the Great Tree they lived in stretched across the walls, and vines erupted with pale green leaves from various parts of the walls, where white moonflowers bloomed. Being in Seymour's room was like walking through a room underneath the water of Lake Macalania.

Tromell never left the bedside of his young Master, feeding him periodically potions of sparkling yellow or ethers of misty blue. After a couple weeks of bathing and recovering, Seymour was sitting up in his bed, with fresh robes of deep sapphire wrapped around his unusually large frame for a child.

Tromell came quietly through his door, waddling back and forth in his green attire, his head of branch like hair swaying as he shook his head: "It's getting harder and harder to avoid your father, young Master. Perhaps now is the time to make aware to him your arrival?"

Seymour, with little knowledge as to why his father sent him away in the first place, was happy to agree, hoping his father would be pleased to see him after almost two years of being restricted to Baaj Temple. Seymour nodded his head to Tromell in agreement. Although a smile rarely crossed his face, Seymour's lips twitched with a bit of happiness at the prospect of seeing his father.

Tromell looked at Seymour with worry. Tromell was certain the reason of banishing his Mother and Seymour was because of the racial tension arising in Guadosalam. No one liked Seymour's mother because she was human, and no one liked Seymour because he was half Guado, half human.

He was a bit afraid of the reaction Master Jyscal would have should he see his son, well, and in bed, without his mother accompanying him. He wondered what happened to Seymour's mother, but questioned not, having heard Seymour cry every night from outside his bedchamber. Perhaps something happened? A fiend encounter, perchance? The Lady of the house was always so kind to him… it was a shame.

Tromell put a hand to Seymour's head, which lazily bobbed from side to side in weariness of the coming night. "Young Master, I will tell your Father myself."

As Tromell closed the door to Seymour's bedroom, he breathed a sigh of concern and walked down the staircase to the Great Hall, where Maester Jyscal was signing peace treaties with the other head Maester, Maester Mika. He seemed absorbed in his work, which relieved Tromell. It would be less likely that he suspected anything amiss from Seymour's return home a week prior.

"Your Grace, Maester Jyscal?" Tromell asked with fingers folded against his stomach in bashfulness.

"Yes Tromell?" Jyscal breathed lazily, not looking up from his work.

"May I – May I speak with Your Grace in private?"

Maester Jyscal looked up at Tromell then to his companion, Mika, with eyebrows raised. He dabbed his quill, and set it in the ink bucket. He rose to his feet, excusing himself to his fellow Maester and walked, slightly hunched out the wooden doors of the Great Hall with Tromell close behind.

The great doors shut heavily before Maester Jyscal spoke:

"Now, Tromell, what could you possibly need right now? Maester Mika comes rarely to overlook documentation with me, you know how important his presence here is."

"Yes, Your Grace, I know this well." Tromell spoke softly, writhing his hands together uneasily.

"Well, what is it my friend?" Maester Jyscal ordered.

"It is about your son, Seymour." Tromell said softly, so no one could possibly hear but the two in the conversation.

"Ah… yes." Jyscal's face appeared solemn, and regret seemed to slowly paint itself across his face, "Maester Mika did say it was a good idea to banish him and my wife, to keep my people happy…"

Jyscal trailed off, looking down, with a long, green pointed finger tapping his bearded chin.

Tromell was astonished, his eyes wide, yet saying nothing, and let Maester Jyscal continue without further provocation.

"But I miss them, I miss my wife. I love her so. But – I love my people, so, what was I to do?" Apparently lost in thought, he seemed to forget Tromell's presence. His gazed was fixed on the mossy floor. Something inside him stirred and he corrected himself, tapping his chin once again before looking at Tromell: "Yes, what of my son?"

"I…" Tromell was hesitant, "He is in his room now, and has been for little more than a week. He came to the front gate in a heap of filth, and… _without_ the accompaniment his mother."

"I beg your pardon sir?" Jyscal was apparently puzzled.

"It's true, Your Grace, and he fell asleep just moments ago." Tromell was hoping to Yevon that Maester Jyscal would be easy on his son, and reconsider banishing him yet again to that horribly isolated temple in Baaj.

"Tromell, please tell Maester Mika that important news has been made aware to me and that our meeting will be cut short, give him my firmest apologies. You said he was slumbering in his quarters?" Jyscal pushed passed Tromell and ascended the staircase to his son's room, not too far from the foot of the stairs.

He stood in front of the wooden door, noticing for the first time in his life while living here, the ornate carvings on its surface. He refused so many times to go into these chambers for fear of remembering his son and wife's presence. He missed them so, that seeing his son's room was too much for him to bear. But his people needed him, and casting his family away in hopes of gaining his people's love seemed like the best idea for the masses. Maester Mika, his companion downstairs, was very serious and intense about his opinion to banish his wife and child to the far reaches of Spira to that deserted temple, and Jyscal was never quite certain as to why Mika was so adamant.

He pressed his long fingers against the wooden door and it eased open heavily. There lay his beautiful son, in a bed of blue and green silk, breathing softly under the covers, his face turned away from him and curled in just the way he remembered Seymour would sleep.

Jyscal walked, tears half rising in his eyes, at the sight of his son, who he hadn't seen in 2 years. Seeing Seymour now made him regret ever sending him away for people he didn't know – his city that repaid his great sacrifice with scrutiny, and claims of cruelty toward his family and people.

He reached toward the bed; arms outstretched, and ran limping toward his son. He enveloped him in his long arms, waking Seymour from a deep slumber.

"Father?" Seymour spoke lazily from tiredness.

"Can you ever forgive me, child?" Jyscal spoke in tears, "Where is your mother, son?"

There was a sudden silence from Seymour that puzzled Jyscal, and he pulled Seymour at arms length, looking intently into Seymour's sleepy eyes, half knowing what he was going to say, as his own filled with tears.

He held his son close to his bosom, and Seymour rested his face against his father's robes of white and green, smelling again that he was home. The smell reminded him of his mother, and he remembered his mother's last words.


	3. Breakfast

**please continue to read, thank you for your support, my dear friends**

17 years have passed.

Seymour arose from slumber with tired eyes, looking out the window at the moon in the night sky. His sleep during the day caused him to awake every night at the same time, right as the sun slipped below the horizon of Spira. It was a curse for some, to wake so late in the evening, but Seymour enjoyed it. He hated bright days anyway, and preferred to rest in the light of the moon, when the moon blossoms would shimmer with life in his bedchamber.

Seymour rose from the silky cloth and silk covered down comforters messily adorning his bed, and walked to the moonlit window. Looking out, he observed the familiar Thunder Plains, with their bolts of tragic lightning descending from the heavens and crashing on the earth. Sometimes he thought of going out to those plains, arms outstretched and face to the sky, awaiting a fate he knew would arrive if he just stood there long enough…

A quick knock on his door interrupted his waking thoughts and he walked briskly to the opening of his room and peeked, eyebrow raised, at a young maid that brought his breakfast to him. She was a human woman, brought to Guadosalam as a servant to Seymour to remind him of his mother's humanly charm. No one in the city knew of such a creature living here and Seymour hated it that his father did this. He found it an impulsive decision made by his father in attempts to make Seymour love his father more. However pessimistic his views, he looked upon the maid as not a reminder of his mother, but a reminder of the hatred humans had for his kind.

However, the master of the house, Jyscal, would not allow her to leave.

The girl was dressed in Guado clothing and was far younger than his mother was when she died and even younger than Seymour still. Her short brown hair flipped to the side in an annoying way, and her green eyes always looked down to the floor. His mother would always look straight into Seymour's eyes. But this girl was nothing like her – who cares if she is a human!

"Good evening, Master Seymour." The girl said.

"Good evening." Seymour said absent-mindedly looking at the tray she brought, filled with Guado fruits.

"Is there anything else you would like to have to eat?" She asked shyly, looking through her down-turned face then up at the seven foot tall half-human.

He faced her, took the food and set it on the bed without breaking his gaze. He was very short about his gestures when it came to gesturing around this girl. He removed himself from being graceful around such a creature and spoke only firmly and with directness to her, the only way humans would understand him.

She was taken aback once again by his short, quick movements, and his straightforward deliberating speech. She clasped her hands together at her chest and looked down.

A flash of Seymour's mother appeared before his eyes, praying before her death to the Fayth.

His eyes widened and with a sudden conviction, he slapped the maid to the ground, her palms falling flat on the hardwood floor. He struck her face with such a blow; her mouth began to bleed when she looked up at him, tears brimming on the edges of her upturned eyes.

Seymour was breathing heavily, shocked at his own action toward the quiet maid, "G-GET OUT!"

Seymour's sudden yell scared the poor girl out of her initial shock and she fumbled at her apron before getting up, and ran to the double doors of his bedchamber. Seymour followed her with his eyes as she scurried away from him like a scared puppy.

"GET OUT!" He yelled again as she groped clumsily for the ring that was the door handle.

As soon as she was gone, Seymour collapsed on his bed with new sweat beading at his temples. He brought his long fingered hand to his face in shame. Shoulders slung in the moonlight, and after some time he looked at the tray she brought in for him.

The tray was beautiful silver, with his favorite fruits carefully and with delicacy, cut in beautiful shapes. One was in the shape of a bird and even a hippopuff. Seymour smiled despite himself. The poor girl remembered what fruits he liked best when he woke, and even his favorite animal. It was too bad she was human, or he might have respect for her. He didn't even remember telling anyone his favorite animal…

**thank you for reading Chapter 3, I hope my poor writing will live up to my ideas in store**


	4. Allow me

Guadosalam was a beautiful city, enchanting in its mystery. The Guado people, after hundreds of years, influenced trees and nature to become their homes with ease and it was even rumored that the greatest tree of all that the Maester and ruler of Guadosalam, Jyscal's home, was the tree that gave the first people life.

From the Great Tree the first Guado grew, like a branch, from the base of it's massive trunk. As the branch grew, it began to take the shape of a human, and it was because of this beautiful shape it turned into, that a wandering spirit looked upon it with awe.

Upon seeing the beautiful branch that stretched from the base of the massive tree, the spirit fell in love with it, and kissed it on the lips of its curved wooden mouth.

From this kiss forth, the branch awoke and was brought to life, and fell too, in love with the spirit that passionately pressed its lips to his. It was so determined to be with the spirit, it separated from the tree and married her immediately.

It was from their offspring that the Guado came to be, why the Guado look as they do, and why the Guado take care of the spirit world, The Farplane. The Guado are the only people with who the spirits allow to communicate, and trust.

It was this tale that was told to Seymour from when he was a child. Tromell, in times long past, used to tell it to him when they would walk hand in hand in the calm lands together, during the night, when no one was about. Seymour would ask to hear it again and again, much as a child would.

Seymour awoke from daydreaming. Having found a mysterious short passage to Macalania Wood, his thoughts trailed, as did his feet. But what awoke him from his idle daydreaming was not his footing but the sounds of small splashes of water.

The moon was high in the sky, and glinted off the reflective water of a spring under a beautiful pyerfly tree in the heart of the mysterious Macalania Wood. The pyerflies would gather around this tree, attracted to its spiritual energy and cause the waters to glow and glint magically. It was a beautiful sight to see during the night, and Seymour became suddenly satisfied with himself for finding this back-alley way into this blue forest.

Seymour looked affectionately upon the water, remembering when his mother would play with him in the spring during their political travels abroad.

"Don't go too deep, Seymour!" She called to him.

"Mother, look!"

Seymour shook his head and walked closer to the spring, in attempts to investigate further the sound he heard. It was probably just a fish coming up for a bite, or a fiend maybe. He smiled at the idea of that – more practice.

Seymour was alarmed, however, at what he saw. At first he stood stunned in his place, and then quickly averted his gaze with wide eyes. The inhabitant in the water appeared not to notice his rude entrance, for Seymour continued to hear the water slosh lazily, as before. He rushed to a nearby tree and stood behind it. Almost child-like, Seymour peeked to see if the swimmer had noticed him.

And alas, he was safe! However, Seymour took a closer look at the person he had seen. It was none other than that ridiculous maid! A grimace covered Seymour's face. What was she doing off duty? He suddenly became very angry and paced forward to the edge of the water and cleared his throat in attempts to get her attention.

Much to his dismay, she was humming to herself and playing in the reflective water by absentmindedly, not seeming to notice him at all.

Seymour cleared his throat again.

The Maid squeaked and submerged herself up to her nose in the water, staring quite fearfully at his overpowering presence. She feared the worst – had he seen her completely?

"Well, what are you doing here?" Seymour asked, "Shouldn't you be at the mansion? Attending to your duties?"

Seymour could care less, to be honest, what she was doing out here -he hated things out of place, and when someone was slacking off to "play" he was most displeased about it. His strict ideals clashed with what he already saw as a now dysfunctional _human_.

The maid did not speak, and stayed almost completely submerged in the moonlit water. Her brown hair shined in the moonlight and created circles on the surface of the water around her face. She blinked at him. Seymour noticed a hint of beauty in her hair in the light but it was quickly brushed aside in his mind when he had to repeat himself:

"_What_ are you doing here?"

She rose her head just enough for her lips to come above the water's surface: "I am bathing, Your Grace."

A sudden heat arose in Seymour and a noticeable tint tainted his pale cheeks. He quite quickly became a mumbling idiot at these words and said a bit hesitantly: "Well… Where are your things? I need you back at the Mansion now, it is quite late and I'm feeling hungry."

A pale white hand peeked above the water's surface and pointed to a low hanging branch, where draped over it neatly were her garments. Over these hung a long piece of white fabric, which must have been brought to dry herself.

Seymour's gaze stayed fixed on the girl. He was noticeably embarrassed, and frozen in his place.

"Your Grace may I… I am going to get out now and I –"

"YES?" He butted in nervously.

"And I – I don't have… my… bit of cloth to dry myself with."

Seymour, not very sure what to do in this situation, having never been in such a state of affairs, picked up the white cloth and held it out, much like a barrier between her and him. Shielding his view of her entirely. She must have noticed what Seymour was doing, and slowly brought herself out of the water with caution.

Seymour could hear her gentle splashes behind the white cloth that he held up for her. An unexpected softness came over Seymour as he noticed she was but an arms length away. Through the sheet of gauzy white material he could see her silluette, graceful and in a strange way, beautiful. Slightly confused at this heat erupting inside him he spoke to her through the fabric barrier.

"I'm…I'm sorry I hurt you." He said quickly, and didn't sound much like an apology at all.

There was a rustling of cloth and two white hands appeared at the top of the sheet, pulling it down to her nose so that her eyes met his for the first time in their Master – servant relationship. She didn't say anything, much to Seymour's dismay, but gave an equally bashful smile that reflected his own. He was unaware of it until now, but a small smile played across his sharp features.

It was rare for Seymour to meet people, having not been encouraged to go out when others would be. He was antisocial and reclusive. Most of his life he had been sadly confined to the Estate and to night walking. His only real confidant was Tromell, who had been his assistant now all his life, and even then they rarely spoke. It was a strange feeling that he had now, in front of this human girl. It was not the same feeling as the feelings of mastery he had over Tromell, or the slightly agitated admiration he had for his father. This was something different. He neither hated this human nor liked it. A tumbling in his stomach made him want to rush out of this predicament immediately. What was this? He suddenly felt sick.

The maid seemed to notice the confusion Seymour's face gave evidence to. This was not like her, but in an effort to break the silence, she spoke to him nervously: "Do you know my name, Your Grace?"

She brought the white sheet down and dried her hair delicately with it. She had clothed herself in the time Seymour took to think and be distracted. Her damp brown hair glistened in the moonlight of the forest.

"Y-Your name?" Seymour was taken away from his distraction of her features and blinked, coming out of his train of thought. He seemed confused by the question but answered it none-the-less.

"No." He confessed outright.

She draped the white bit of cloth over the low hanging branch to dry, and brushed her damp bangs out of her eyes: "My name is Yune."

"That's a beautiful name."

Both were taken aback at his unexpected softness, Seymour more so. Both staring at each other blankly for a moment before The Maid edged forward toward Seymour, her eyes a little happier than usual.

"Really…?" The Maid asked.

"I…I'm sorry to have disturbed you!"

And so, walking off rather methodically, and in the wrong direction from the estate, or the secret path home, he left her there alone, wondering what in Spira just happened between the two of them. She herself was even taken aback by his kindness, and her own uncharacteristic straightforwardness.

"Well, goodbye…. Your Grace." She mumbled to herself. She folded her things and put on her violet slippers, walking through the same trail back to the underground gates of the estate.

**Thank you for your avid advice and support**

**It is thanks to you that I keep writing!**

**Please review and have a nice day!**

**I am but a horrible writer, so please be gentle**


	5. Feelings

**Part V: "Feelings"**

**Enjoy…**

Seymour paced his room. He tried to remember his mother as she was: cool, calm and collected. She was beautiful, long raven hair and great blue eyes that could open the heart of any being.

Human.

What was it, to be human? He was half, wasn't he?

At times however, it felt that part of him was more Guado than human, and more human than Guado. There seemed less and less to be a balance between these species that he could possess.

Pacing his room wasn't helping to sort out these strange feelings that arose in him this evening. He pressed a worried finger to his temple, straining his eyes for some unseen answer before him.

So unfamiliar was he with this awakening feeling in himself that he became confused and reclusive the following evening and refused even to eat. Because of course, the bringer and bearer of food to him was the Maid Girl. He couldn't see her – he was scared of his own abusive behavior towards her, and worse still, the confusing emotions welling up inside him.

He thought perhaps something was wrong with him, and he was determined to figure it out. However, pacing his chambers was doing nothing for him and he knew it. But what was he to do? He was confused and angered at his own weakness for this – this HUMAN!

As if answering to his thoughts, a knock rapped on the door. He answered it promptly. It was Tromell, with a worried look in his eyes as he asked permission to enter Seymour's chamber.

Seymour allowed him to enter with the grace of his right hand, left hand quivering on the door. Hiding his hand behind his back as Tromell turned, Seymour's eyebrows raised in anticipation of Tromell's calling.

"Yes, Tromell?" His words did little to hide his anxiety.

"It's about your Father."

Seymour stayed at the door, silent.

Tromell continued: "Your Father he – he is acting rather strange, have you noticed?"

"Tromell, my friend, you know how little time I spend with him." Seymour smirked.

"Yes, yes…" Tromell trailed off, "But he is talking in his sleep sir."

"And why is this of any concern to me? Do you always keep tabs on whatever he's doing?" The moment the words slipped from his lips, he regretted uttering them. Tromell's face fell in dismay.

"Tromell, forgive the harsh choice of words – I'm rather uneasy at the moment."

Tromell's expression lightened slightly from his apology, continuing: "Your father has been having more and more meetings with Maester Mika as of late."

It was no secret that Seymour despised the Maester, him being the one that gave his father the idea to send him and his mother away, so many years ago: "I have no interest in their silly politics, Tromell. My father rarely suggests I leave the house during the day. So what knowledge would I need of politics? What reason can you possibly have for bringing this to my attention, Tromell?"

Tromell cleared his throat, his green tendril hair quivering, "You see I… Well I was shamefully listening in on them, for your benefit, sir."

"My benefit?"

Seymour raised an eyebrow as Tromell continued, heading for the doorway slowly and deliberately: "I was listening in and I heard them mention your name – I believe that when Jyscal dies, he wants you to take his place as the leader of the Guado, and Maester!"

Tromell's graceful fingers slipped around the edges of the doorframe, and he looked into Seymour's far off expression. Seymour had become very still, his eyes staring into the space in front of them. Tromell said nothing, and only looked at his master, with worried eyes. Had he said the wrong thing? Was this not a great honor? Any man would be incredibly happy at this news!

"Great." Seymour breathed vaguely. He could care less about becoming a Maester of Yevon, or leading these people, that hated him so. He just wanted to be free, he finally realized, in that moment of silence.

He wanted to be free to do with his life what he pleased, and be strong and happy for his mother, and save Spira, with her, from Sin. Not busy himself in the lives of others with politics, much less lead a people to greatness or what have you as a Maester... pompous pigs.

Seymour began closing the door, with no awareness that Tromell was there. Tromell quickly evaded being crushed in the pathway of the heavy wooden door, as Seymour desired his privacy.

Seymour walked to the window of his room, where he looked outside it, in a long trance. To be certain, his mother wanted him to become stronger, and become a leader. However, after receiving his mother as an Aeon, he wanted more to defeat sin with her by his side, to show her and the people of Guadosalam and of Spira that he was not useless like they believed. He was not the sick hybrid of the temporary love his father and mother shared! He was strong. He wanted to show them he was strong! And what more strong, then giving your life for a cause? A cause that few would fight for?

Seymour collapsed on his bed, laying back. He draped his finely shaped forearm over his eyes in contemplation.

"I want to show you mother, that I can be the strongest. I can become a summoner, and lead the people like you wanted – but in a different way than following the polluted paths of politics."

He lay there for a long while, resting in the light of the moon that came from the sky light across the room from the window facing the Thunder Plains. Strange how the lands of Spira could change so suddenly, he thought to himself. Even the people of Spira could change so drastically and suddenly without warning. Possibly even him.

The moonlight drifted across his bed as the hours passed. He lay motionless for an extensive amount of time, one arm covering his beautifully sharp features…fading into a deep and awkward sleep.

Seymour awoke with a start – gasping for breath as early morning light seeped into the skylight, warm and orange. How long had he been lying there? How long had he been dreaming?

But what woke him with a jerk however was not the ever-foreign sunlight, but the body present – so close to his. Before realizing what he was doing, he was smelling the air that surrounded the person next to him, realizing the sweet fragrance belonged to that of the Spring in the Macalania forest – smelling of gardenias and a sweet flower he knew not the name of.

A moment of clarity crossed Seymour's expression…

To his utter horror, it was the Maid girl, Yune.

He stared at her in shock, sleek blue eyes wide with sudden realization that she was real, and that she was here, so close to him now. He backed away from her, perched on his elbows.

"Sir? Your breakfast?" She smiled, pretending to be unaware of his mental battle.

He fumbled for his words, but they came out jumbled and confusing, causing one of Yune's eyebrows to rise in puzzlement: "Sir?"

He rose to his feet, towering at least three heads above the human girl: "Forgive my poor actions last night," he cleared his throat quickly, with a balled fist to his mouth in uncertainty of what his next words should be.

She stared at him with traces of fear that still resided in her, despite his most silly heart-felt apologies the previous night. She set the tray of fruit and sweet nectars before him, on the side of his large bed, cautiously. Her light jade colored eyes never left his as she backed away, toward the door.

Still frantically searching for words and only finding them as soon as her palms were pressed against the handles of the door, Seymour blurted out:

"PLEASE STAY!"

Yune was frozen in place, her eyes wide in astonishment. They both stared at one another for a long while, neither moving. Seymour then found the initiative to move and pushed his tray of breakfast prepared for him towards the inside of the bed. He approached his young maid, quite slowly.

"You, Yune, you must not be afraid of me."

She was silent and still as stone as he neared her. His steps came closer and closer to her. He could tell by her slight movements that she was becoming tenser as he neared. He paused:

"Are you still afraid of me?"

Her small voice broke a long silence: "Yes… well not really sir but…"

Seymour attempted to be diplomatic with his choice of words around her: "Why?"

His blue eyebrows rose in question.

"You ran off quite suddenly last evening…" She hesitated and walked closer to him, quite hesitantly.

Seymour didn't speak. He merely looked away, embarrassed. He remembered the night before with a rush of red arising in his cheeks.

"Your Grace?" Yune pointed to the breakfast she had prepared for him, "Are you going to eat?"

Seymour was suddenly confused: "How did you know I fell asleep last night, like a regular person?" A smile flickered across his lips temporarily.

Yune didn't answer.

Seymour shrugged and walked to his bed, and gracefully sat down at its edge, and began eating with impeccable manners for someone with such long limbs. Yune stayed near the door and watched him in amazement. She had never seen him eat, and it was fascinating to her. He picked up the fruit with his long pointed fingers, and placed each delicate fruit in the front of his mouth, chewed each one fully, and swallowed.

She must have been there for half an hour, watching him consume what she made for him.

For Seymour, he was showing her he enjoyed the food, and attempted to make it easier for her to be around him. Seymour knew that she had been employed here a long time in the household, and made a bitter mistake at causing her physical harm. There was nothing worse than a scared Maid who tripped all over herself in attempts to flee your very presence. It was bothersome, to be sure.

Seymour eyed the young girl. Her soft features were beautiful in the morning light, and its orange glow turned her medium length hair into a gorgeous auburn that he had never seen before in her. He watched her as she watched him with her cool green eyes. For once, Seymour saw the admiration her eyes held for him. She watched as he ate each bite, noticing even the slightest change in his expression to what he disliked or preferred.

Seymour noted this and pretended to make a disgusted face.

Yune's eyes widened in disbelief: "I thought that was your favorite!" She gasped.

He smiled and rose to his feet, bringing the piece of fruit with him, and walked to her steadfast position near the door. He was but a few feet from her unhappy face when she looked up to him. Her eyes were furrowed together in honest concern.

"It is my favorite. I was only joking." He smiled warmly, the edges of his long eyes creasing.

She smiled in return, truly relieved.

He placed the pink, sweet fruit in her palm and asked her to eat it. Yune was unsure at first; she had never taken food from someone above her in rank. Her eyes searched his in worry, wondering if she should eat it.

"Well, I can't have poisoned it, I dare say." He laughed.

She jumped at the beauty in his laugh, like an angel of Yevon, she thought to herself. She looked up at this creature in disbelief but soon placed the fruit on her lips hesitantly.

She slid the circular plump little piece of fruit between her parted lips and sucked on it. Seymour watched in delight, hands clasped behind his back. She looked up into his eyes and her expression turned into sheer happiness, her eyes sparkling at the foreign flavor she never experienced. Mouth full of fruit, she smiled and looked thankfully up at Seymour.

Seymour smiled down at her, "Can you see why it's my favorite?"

She nodded happily, forgetting her fears of Seymour in the instant of tasteful bliss.

"Again, I'm sorry that I hurt you the other day," Seymour said, bowing low to the maid. She was shocked by his behavior, still sucking on the pink juice of his favorite fruit.

But alas, knowing now that he was a nice fellow, she bowed shakily in return and lifted the edges of her Guado skirt daintily, She smiled timidly up at Seymour. The delicate curves of her smile pleased Seymour, despite his still apparent distaste in her.

That evening, a delicate knock rapped on Seymour's door, which could only mean that it was his little maid, come to give him a small morsel of food or drink.

Surprised at himself, Seymour sprang up immediately from his writing in his personal journal, and answered his bedroom chamber door.

"Why hello there, Yune." He smiled as she entered with a tray of tea. It was Seymour's favorite, and he could smell it coming up the stairs before she even knocked on the door. The tealeaves were dried from the very best flowers in the calms lands, a white flower named after a dead summoner. He forgot the name at the moment, and considered rather to get to know more about his tiny maid.

"You remembered…" Yune said shyly, fumbling at her mauve skirts.

Seymour nodded, and led her to a place to set the tray of beautiful silver. Once she was done, she brushed her hands against her apron and headed for the door rather slowly, expecting to be stopped short from Seymour.

Her hand was clutching at the cool metal of the door handle when Seymour asked her to come sit with her. She turned around, one hand still placed on the handle of the door.

He motioned toward fine pillows on the ground, which were laid lazily about the floor, in a reclining fashion. The setting was very relaxed, the cool blue drapes coming down from the center of the room surrounded the little area in an enclosed fashion. It never failed to amaze Yune how splendid his room looked. It was no wonder he rarely left it.

"I wanted to speak with you, if that's alright…" Seymour proposed.

A jolt of energy surged through the poor girl, and for a moment she believed she was formally being told she was fired, sold off – shipped away! Even though that would be impossible through Seymour's lips: Jyscal was the one who had the final word in her employment there.

Seymour noticed her hesitancy, "Please, sit, just to chat."

She approached the seating area slowly and returned a shy smile to Seymour, who seemed to be beaming, for reasons unaware to her. She walked through the translucent material carefully, eyeing Seymour through the corner of her eyes.

Seymour sat with her, no more than a few feet away. For the first time, Yune noticed how beautiful he was. He was like a being she had ever seen before. His blue hair spiked like a Guado, but with the softness of human hair – nothing like Jyscal's, which was hard and tree like, which she figured, must be very uncomfortable for him to sleep at night…

…His bare chest was flawless of blemish, or tan, and with muscles she knew not where he acquired them. He leaned toward her, and something in her stomach doubled over when he began to speak. She remained rigid in her posture, looking dutifully at her Master's son. But she couldn't keep her eyes off his beautifully chiseled face, features sharp and elegant, jaw line masculine and strong.

Yune tried to focus on his words, but he was too beautiful to keep her attention elsewhere. Seymour noticed her daze.

"Are you alright? I'm boring you?" He shifted his weight away from her, maneuvering his simple black drawstring pants; he changed positions.

"Yes, fine." She lied.

"I wanted you to know, that I want to become a summoner, when the time comes." He smiled at her, awaiting her answer. He hoped that a human would understand his reasons more than his father or even Tromell.

She looked at him questioningly, momentarily forgetting her latent desire to reach out and touch his bared chest: "But why are you telling me this, Your Grace?"

He looked down nervously, "You see, I…" He seemed somewhat embarrassed, "I could tell Tromell, but he would naturally talk me out of it. Besides, I have come to like you, however short your visits are."

Yune blushed.

"And since I know you by your first name – you can call me by mine, if you like." Seymour poured tea, and passed her a cup informally.

She did not take it immediately: "But even Sir Tromell does not call you by your first name…" She looked down bashfully at the tea he offered her and did not drink it.

"You're… different, I suppose." Seymour confessed.

She looked up, "Different?"

"I know – I know that I know you little, and I was very judgmental at first, but you know, we're kind of alike, you and I…" Seymour smiled, urging her to drink the fragrant tea.

She sipped daintily, and a bit nervously, looking up at him.

"I just – I wanted to tell someone the decision I made, someone who would understand…" Seymour trailed off, drinking some tea and looking around the room rather bashfully for a 26 year-old, seven-foot tall half-Guado.

Yune smiled warmly, "May I be allowed to speak freely?"

Seymour nearly spit his tea out in response: "P-Please, please!"

"I am not much to this household, and I do not do much in any way to please you, I know this…" She paused, setting the tea down with a clinking noise, "But I would support you in whatever you chose to do, Your Grace. Those who are few to become summoners… I hear it's a remarkably honorable thing."

Seymour smiled, "Thank you… but you forgot, Miss Yune."

Yune looked up through thick lashes, "Yes, Your Grace?"

"To call me Seymour."

**Thank you for reading!**


	6. Friendship

Part VI:

Part VI:

Yune and Seymour shared many more midnight teas together, sometimes listening to the rain of the Thunder Plains silently, or when the birds would slowly chirp as morning began to be born. Through morning mists, the sun would rise and gleam through the skylights of Seymour's chambers, and Yune would rush down to her own chamber to allow Seymour his rest.

His meal servings became bigger as Seymour requested; as he would share his most favorites and abundant with Yune in the evening light. It was a strange relationship they shared together, always distant, yet always kind, and never ever abusive as it once temporarily was. Seymour would always look out for Yune's best interests in whatever she did around the Estate. At times, in the middle of the night, when the house was at rest, the two would sneak down to the kitchens and she would show him how to make his favorite tea just the way he liked it. Or the homemade cookies that she made from sugar and banana fruit.

It was endearing to watch as their bond grew, and how comfortable they became to each other's presence. Yune would even playfully punch him in the arm (which he never felt) when he would pass a joke about her hair or the way she looked. Seymour was rarely around humans – if at all, so he usually poked fun of her appearance, which was completely different from his own.

It was rare for Seymour to be so openly jovial with someone, and even rarer still if he was happy like he was with Yune, in private. Seymour was taken aback every time a smile would creep onto his face or a laugh erupted from his lips. Yune had a way of making him express amusement, with out her even having to try. He found it endearing, in a way.

Tromell had noticed that the pair were getting along well and appeared happy for his Master's son, who had always been just a little on the edgy side. Was his new relaxation all due to his newfound friend?

Yune and Seymour were never persuaded to venture outside the estate grounds during daylight when Guadosalam was usually at its most populated. It might not appear well on the Maester's behalf if there was a human living again in the same household as him, and his half-blood son as well. So, when the timing was right, Yune and Seymour would sneak innocently out of the small gates on the far side of Guadosalam and retreat to the Macalania woods. There, in the peaceful quiet of its antiquity, they rested under the blue colossal trees, and near The Spring to talk for hours, about many things.

Over months they became more open with each other, Seymour telling her about his painful past with his mother and father, and Yune telling him about her decision to work for the Maester's household.

"But why? When you could have a normal life out there?" Seymour asked one night, under the moonlight near a great tree covered in purple and silver moss.

Yune looked up happily through the tree's massive leaves at the night sky: "Because. I heard there was a young man that needed my help."

"Have you always been into servitude?" Seymour asked sarcastically.

They laughed silently in the gathering mists.

"No, I just – Something brought me here… maybe it was fate?" She turned to him, and smiled.

The distance separating them seemed to quiver with the tension that rose between them from the statement.

Seymour smiled and patted her shoulder nonchalantly, and to both their dismay, he did nothing to break the ever-growing tension.

Yune looked out at the shimmering trees, admiring the beautiful way their branches entwined with one another in a dance of silvery greens and bluish whites, blocking out most light from above. She pressed her knees to her chin, the purple fabric flowing around her gracefully. Seymour watched her for a long while, remarking to himself the graceful way her back curved or the skin on her arms: so beautifully white and supple. He wanted then to reach to her and touch her skin.

"Morning will break in a couple of hours," He said suddenly, to break the uncomfortable silence between them both, "We should head back to the estate now – you should be getting your rest."

Yune turned to see his expression, "Alright."

This was how Seymour and Yune usually ended their nights together – when they wouldn't spend the whole night awake until morning's dawn, talking for hours about anything that came to their budding minds.

Walking back home, with many hours to spare, Yune and Seymour walked, and unusually, without speaking. They marveled again at the beauty that was the Macalania Forest, it never failed to surprise them. It was hard to imagine that pyerflies lived here, and fed off the spiritual energies that flowed throughout this place. It was no wonder they felt so relaxed here, and came here often with their thoughts and occasional sorrows.

After moments of silence between them, Seymour stopped in his tracks and Yune followed suit. She looked at him incredulously, holding the side of her mauve skirts in anticipation.

Seymour looked down at her, wondering if this was best to tell her. Her smiling eyes reassured him: "Yune, when I become a Summoner, and make my journey, despite the accusations that may or may not arise; I would like you to accompany me."

Yune was taken aback, and stared at him, wide-eyed: "But I have no magic abilities, I can no way near be your guardian! I'm not capable, and would not want to cause you unnecessary danger!" Her voice was stern, absolute.

But Seymour cut her off, putting a hand on her shoulder sympathetically: "I have all the magic and strength _we_ need. I want you not as my guardian… but… my companion. As my friend."

Yune relaxed under his soothing touch, and slow tears began to weld up in Yune's eyes as she looked up at Seymour. No one, ever in her life, had ever called her 'friend'. Seymour seemed to read her reaction as bad sign and a sudden gloom flickered in his light blue eyes.

"You say no?" He asked, forlorn.

Yune wiped her eyes with the back of her pale hand, shaking her head and returning her eyes to his, this time smiling with warmth: "No, I say yes!"

She broke out into happy laughter, as well as Seymour. He was only slightly surprised she had said yes so quickly. The Macalania butterflies lifted from their relaxed positions at the abrupt noise and fluttered by them.

In the light blue light of the forest, with the moonlight shining down upon them, Seymour realized with clarity, how beautiful this human was to him. His first friend, and his first…

He moved his hand gently from her shoulder, his long fingers brushing the tears away from the bottom of her eyes softly. A soft expression crossed Seymour's eyes.

Yune stood rigid, fixed in place at his intimate movement. Seymour rarely touched her, and when he did it was usually very impersonal: a light pat on the back, or a hand on the shoulder. But never, never, has he touched her like this.

Yune's stomach shuddered and her hands began to tremble. Noticing her discomfort, Seymour shied away quietly and swiftly – she did not even see him move. "I'm sorry…" Seymour apologized. He bowed slightly, his gaze lowering.

They continued to walk to the estate, a small smile playing on both of their unexpectedly happy lips.


	7. Please be Safe

Part: VII

Yune's work wasn't too hard in her home with the Guado's in Guadosalam. Yune was expected to work hard like any help hired for the estate, but also to work secretively at times. At political banquets it was imperative that she stay behind closed doors with Seymour and not allow herself to be seen, either with the young master or by herself.

It was still unexplained to Yune as to why the discomfort in the air was thick with heavy glances from the other workers at her presence. Difficult was it to not look back at their faces timidly and run off in embarrassment when whispers where heard behind her back. Many things told her she wasn't welcome: Side glances from other maids who were, of course, not human; they seemed to hate her the most for all the time she was allowed to spend with Seymour. And it bothered her that even Tromell would never hold a conversation longer than a few sentences with her. Tromell, who was the kindest Guado other than Seymour that she knew, had trouble accepting a new human to the "family". She wondered if it was because the only human he really approved of was Seymour's mother.

Ultimately, Yune kept to herself. In her small room given to her by the Maester Jyscal, she would read about the long history of Spira in scrolls that Seymour allowed her to borrow while he slept during the day. She would examine thoroughly old writings of priests and summoners who would tell their stories of "The Pilgrimage". But of course, the last entry of a summoner was never written, and usually a priest would finish the log with an honorable homage to their life and sacrifice.

It confused Yune how every summoner in Spira's past perished in the fight against Sin. Why did they ALL have to die? Was it the last fight with Sin, the last Aeon given to them by the mysterious Fayth that caused their death? After the last Aeon is received by the summoner, there is never another entry made by a Summoner again. What happened in those last moments? What was it that finally killed the summoner?

As night fell, she heard above her in Seymour's chambers, the sounds of his stirring. Finishing (for the third time) her scroll about chocobo breeding, she began dressing in her Guado garments, appropriate for the house.

Pulling from the shelves in her small room, she retrieved her clothing for the night: a dress of deep plum that lightened in color as it reached her narrow waist into shades of lavender. The sleeves cut off at her upper arms, and were trimmed in a beautiful emerald green silk. She wrapped her apron around herself, expertly tying the deep jade bow in the back swiftly. Touching the beautiful fabric unique to Guadosalam, she admired its softness and sheer texture and appearance. The dress was soft to the touch, and light as butterfly's kiss. It draped lovingly to the body and to the floor like a flower itself.

Yune examined herself in the small mirror by her door, which seemed to be born from the tree itself. It was not hung on the wall, like in a normal home but rather emerged from the wall as if it was part of the tree. Tendrils of brown swirled around the edges of the mirror, holding it in place. Leaves sprung haphazardly here and there and blocked part of her image in the reflection.

Pushing a stray lock of brown hair from her eyes, she brushed her apron to smooth out the everlasting wrinkles it accumulated when shoved in her cupboard shelves.

Sneaking through her small door and moving swiftly to the kitchen, she prepared Seymour's breakfast. Since living with the Guado's, it never failed to amaze her the beauty of the fruits that the trees here bore. Mango tasting fruits as big as chocobo eggs and even green and yellow star shaped fruits that supposedly, when eaten together with your true love, would keep you bound together forever. Or, so Yune read. But those were old stories young girls would linger over as they picked the fruits from the trees, back in Luca. She shook her head, erasing the image of her former home from her mind.

Yune sighed in approval for the beautiful breakfast she'd prepared for Seymour and made her way from the kitchen and upstairs to Seymour's bedchamber.

Seymour seemed to know she was there already, and opened the door for her gingerly before she could struggle with it herself. She thanked him with a shy smile and placed the tray of delicious and colorful fruit at the foot of his bed.

"Good evening, Your Grace." She bowed.

"How many times? …Must I remind you again?" He smiled and gave a sarcastic look to the maid, moving swiftly closer to her. He was amazing graceful, each step would make the most amazing dancer in Spira mad with jealousy.

"Sorry, Your Grace." She repeated, "Good evening,_ Seymour_." She bowed again but returned upright with a smile and they started laughing at their secret joke.

As they ate together, Seymour lounged on his luxurious deep blue bed, and Yune sat in an ornate chair by the window, looking almost longingly out of it. Seymour looked through her unusually sad eyes and asked a question Yune was not prepared to answer: "Where are you from, Yune?"

Yune looked at him, wide-eyed for a moment, and cleared her throat. She answered him, but did not look at him: "Luca."

"Oh! I've heard of that place, is it as busy and industrial as I hear?" Seymour leaned forward, interested. He nearly fell off his bed.

"Oh, oh, yes." Yune managed. It was obvious she strayed from the subject of conversation, looking again out the window.

Something was bothering her. Seymour picked up on this.

"Is… everything okay?"

Yune bit her lip, playing with the purple fabric of her dress. Seymour waited for her to answer, afraid to tread on her words. She was silent for a long while, and Seymour continued: "Do you miss your home, in Luca?"

Yune looked up immediately with shocked eyes: "OF COURSE NOT!" She blurted. Her sudden outburst scared both Seymour and herself, "No… I could never miss that place…" She trailed off, and placed a hand on her chest.

Seymour eyed her with slit eyes, waiting patiently for her to continue. He scanned her curiously, wondering what might have happened in that far away city he had never visited. He rose from his position and made his way to her. He kneeled in front of her, and looked into her eyes with question. Genuine concern crossed his face.

"I was small when my mother and father were killed by Sin. My mother was really young and so was my father – everyone was really shocked… I guess." She looked up behind her downcast eyes at Seymour and smiled: "I never had a home. I always traveled. And I never even went to a proper school, to be quite honest…"

"With who did you travel?" Seymour asked hesitantly.

"With the Al Bhed." She whispered.

Seymour backed away instinctually. He looked down at Yune, gripping the sides of the chair she perched in, "Why!? Anyone but those Yevon haters!"

"I had no one else – no other place to turn to!" Yune's voice cracked as tears welded in her light colored eyes. Memories burned behind them.

"But – you could have come here!" Seymour realized how childish the thought was and immediately felt embarrassed for it, "I mean – you could have found refuge in a temple, as a priestess!"

Yune shook her head, "I didn't want to commit myself to something I didn't understand fully – I was so young! And I was scared! I had to find some place other than Luca! Anywhere but there!"

Yune began sobbing, burying her face in her palms. Seymour was taken aback as she began crying and soon felt guilty for yelling at her. She was of course, very young at the time. She wouldn't have known how evil the Al Bhed were, and how sacrilege their actions were against summoners.

"We are friends, it is natural for me to be concerned…" Seymour whispered, kneeling again in front of the small shaking body in front of him. He pulled her hands softly away from her face, and she looked up at him bashfully through watery eyelashes.

"Don't cry, Yune." Seymour spoke softly, holding her hands in his, "I can't begin to understand the hardships you endured as you grew into your life."

She shook her head slowly, "Nothing compared to what you had to go through, Your Grace. I shouldn't even cry… how do you hold it in so effortlessly?"

Seymour's jaw tightened at the thought of his mother and ever-distant father. He looked up at her happily, tightening his grip on her small fingers: "Because I have you to look forward to every day."

Yune blushed from her toes to the tip of her head: "I – I can't be that much fun." She sniffed.

Seymour laughed and wiped the tears from her face with long sharp fingers, gently cupping her chin in his cool hand. She froze in her seat at his touch. Without realizing it was coming, her face crumpled in a look of discomfort.

"What – what's wrong?" Seymour asked, worried.

"AHHHHCHHHEWWW!" Yune sneezed all over her friend, his eyes winced in shock.

"AH! YOUR GRACE!"

Before Yune thought he would yell at her in a rage, he began laughing hysterically – dropping his hand from her chin and slapping his knee in laughter.

"It… it's not funny." She pouted, extremely embarrassed.

"Yes – Yes," His words broke with shakes of hilarity, "Yes it was!"

"No it wasn't!" She rose from her chair, humiliation filling her body in a swarm of heat.

Seymour just laughed and took her hand in his, "It's okay – it's just – What WAS that?"

"Can't you tell a sneeze when you hear one!?" Yune's voice broke in shame.

"A sneeze? Is that what that silly looking face was!" He laughed.

"What! Do you Guado never sneeze?!"

"If that was what you call it – then no!" His laughter wore off and he wiped a tear from his eye, smiling.

Yune buried her face in her hands and collapsed back into the armchair, defeated.

"Oh, come now, you have to admit, that was pretty funny!" Seymour tried to lighten the mood.

She looked up from where she curled herself in a humiliated ball, her knees drawn to her nose. Her eyes showed a small smile, "Maybe a little…" She mumbled through her knees.

He laughed a little and rose to his feet, towering above her, "Common now, don't be upset. Let's go for a walk. What do you say about that Yune?"

Yune dropped her knees and took the hand Seymour offered a little hesitantly, and followed him to the door, Seymour's recovering laughter still audible.

They sat together by the Spring, their favorite spot to pass the night. Yune, fully clothed, took off her slippers and sprang into the glassy water, up to her ankles. She splashed around the mysteriously sparkling water. She wondered absent minded where the water got its beautiful glow from. She turned to smile at Seymour, who waved back at her from the shore.

Seymour loved nights like these – the cool breezes and the isolation of this forest was a nice change from the stuffy confines of his room or of the estate. And although he liked to be home, the wood seemed to call him. It was truly the only place he felt relaxed, especially with Yune with him. Looking out into the water and watching her splash around put him at a strange ease. If he stayed there forever with her, it wouldn't matter, he would be happy still. He wondered then what his strange feelings were for her – they were growing stronger everyday he spent with her. The emotions must be more than friendship – maybe a greater friendship. He did not know – he wasn't very familiar with having friends.

He looked at her as she lifted the wine colored skirt from the water's surface with long white fingers. Watching her like this made her look like a summoner on the water – sending the souls to the Farplane, as he read in the scrolls, Kilikans would not bury their dead, they would submerge them in the water, where they perished. Supposedly it was to honor their death… Seymour never understood the way of humans and their dead.

Yune spun around and around, splashing the water very little, and smiling at Seymour as her skirt wrapped around her slim legs when she stopped.

Yune rushed to where he lounged, resting on his palms. The green mossy shoreline was covered in sparkling fragments from the water's enchanted pool. Reaching out a white hand toward her friend, she smiled: "Please come in with me, the water is nice!"

Seymour carefully took her hand and helped himself up gracefully. Without lifting her draping skirts, she went into the water, beckoning with both her hands clasped to his one hand, to come in with her. Seymour didn't bother to lift the legs of his pants either, and stepped into the water with her. The water _was_ nice. It was neither warm nor cool, and seemed to splash around them like air. Yune smiled at his obvious surprise, "See?"

Seymour looked at her hands attached to his, and followed his gaze down her pale arms and to her inviting, smiling face. He became speechless all of sudden at her beauty, taken aback by her playful expression she showed so rarely to him.

Seymour tried to reply, "Yes – yes… nice… beautiful."

"I suppose it is, isn't it?" She sighed in wonder, her eyes looking up at the great tree, its roots visible beneath the water's surface. Her eyes strayed and fixed on the moon, her expression turning from happy to concerned. She looked down and let go of Seymour's hand, to his disappointment. She walked further into the water, her dresses floating and trailing behind her. Her back was to Seymour. He stayed where he was, following her only with his eyes.

"Seymour?" She asked gently, looking at her hands that rested at her chest.

"Yes?" He didn't move.

She looked up at the stars, the moon, and wondered briefly how far away they were from her now. Looking down and scanning the water's surface for the right words, she edged deeper into the shimmering waters.

Seymour wondered what could possibly be on her mind, questioning for an instant if his actions earlier this evening somehow offended her. Should he not have laughed at her? Maybe she was truly offended. His breath stopped when she spoke finally, her head tilted up at the sky:

"I read that… that Summoners die."

Seymour was taken aback, unsure of what to say to his young friend. She'd lived with Al Bhed, hadn't she? How come this wasn't made known to her earlier? They were known for speaking out against using Summoners to defeat Sin – how come she just now asks him about it?

Seymour walked toward her timidly, breaking the water's surface minimally in his path. Seymour reached out to her, his hand falling lightly on her shoulder. She did not move.

"Is it true? Is that why I never see the ending written?"

Seymour realized she must have been talking about the scrolls and logs of the Summoners, writings he found in the estate's massive library that he gave to her ages ago, when they first became close friends.

She turned to face him, touching his hand affectionately.

Seymour's heart jumped at her touch, his eyes widening and looking at her sullen face, he could not help but tell her the truth. Her eyes that looked up at him with such concern, it broke his heart to even think of lying to her at that moment. They stood there in the water, facing each other.

"Yes." Seymour's gaze fell, "Yes, they die during the final summoning."

Yune looked up at him, with no expression of surprise that Seymour thought she might have had after he had given her the truth so willingly.

"The last Aeon?" She asked, tears brimming at the edges of her large eyes.

Seymour nodded, "The summoning of the last Aeon kills the Summoner… the power is much too great – and the guardian's sacrifice…"

Yune took Seymour's hand and brought it to her lips, to Seymour's amazement, and silenced his words. A shiver ran up Seymour's spine as she pressed her lips on the inside of his palm, burying her cheek into his hand affectionately.

Seymour stood still, watching her pale face glittering in the reflective waters. He knew his feelings of friendship were more than friendship, and this sudden act of intimacy with him proved this fact: his stomach doubled over in anticipation. Was Yune worried for him? Was she sad? He didn't want her to feel pity for him. He wanted to be strong for her.

"I…" Seymour hesitated.

"I am honored." Yune interrupted him, still holding his hand to her cheek, "I am honored that you are willing to give your life for people you do not know."

"Is that so honorable?" Seymour breathed, intoxicated suddenly by her touch.

"More than honorable. I will be honored too – to be by your side when the time comes." At this, she wrapped her arms around him, her hands clinging to the fabric of his shirt, as she began to cry into his stomach: "I hope – that – that – we will always be together!"

Seymour, shocked at first, relaxed his arms around her quivering body. The spring shimmered with light around them, coming to life as pyerflies drifted lazily back and forth to their random destinations.

"We will." Seymour promised.

Yune looked up at him, craning her neck to see his blue eyes lighten as they looked at each other. They stood there for a long moment, engaged in each other's eyes, watching and waiting for what neither of them had the willingness or courage to do. He looked down at Yune, with the first time she noted, filled with adoration and affection. There was no stern hostility or anger behind his gaze as usual. No hidden hurt behind the blue.

With an uncertain hand, Yune reached up to Seymour's face and trailed her wet fingers along his jaw, to his chin, and with a hesitant thumb, stroked the lips that smiled down at her. She was lost in his gaze, in her touch, in her unbelievable feelings that filled her stomach. For the first time in either of their lives – they had found _love_.

Depending on each other for so much – when one of them was forbidden to be seen, the other would be with them, keeping them company. Breakfasts under moonlight, smiles in the kitchen and dining hall.

Seymour stroked her brownish hair, glinting in the water's reflection. He half smiled at her, repeating the gesture she had on him, but leaned down, with tentative slowness, until his face was centimeters from her own. Her eyes closed as he breathed in her scent along her temples, his cool breath lingering warmly by her ear. His hands delayed themselves at her shoulders, feeling her cool wet skin beneath his fingers. He kissed her eyes with tender lips, and then her brow. Yune's eyes remained closed, her usual tense expression relaxed as her breathing slowed, her heart pumping unusually loud in her chest. With slow hands, she placed hers in turn on his shoulders.

Seymour smiled against her cheek. This smile was not filled with anything but love, with complete happiness and contentment, as it had never been in his life.

A strange thing happened then, that stirred neither of them at its sudden presence. Yune looked down happily, as did Seymour, as both their eyes looked at the same location in Yune's chest. It glowed with a white light, shimmering brighter than the pools of Macalania Wood. And suddenly with a warmth that passed through them both, it faded.

Yune looked perplexed but Seymour assured her with gentleness: "You never told me you were a white mage."

"I never knew…"

"They say a white mage is born, and never made." Seymour put his forehead to hers, closing his eyes as she did, "But when, however very rarely, they are made – it is because of something born within themselves. A feeling that will only come once in a life time, once in a rare while…"

Yune smiled but said nothing, for they both knew without words, what he meant.

The moon shone its brightest that night on the water's of spring in Macalania Forest. There are no words to describe what beauty there was in Seymour and Yune's first affectionate touches. But it is also said that when a Guado finds his true love – it is the only love he will ever have. Only death would keep him from her, he concluded, and though Sin's arrival was not too far off, and his time would come to fight – he was content with his happiness now, and knew it would be the fuel to drive him faster to his victory. He would save her, and Spira from the destruction of Sin. But more than Spira, more than anything, even more than the memory of his mother, he wanted her to be happy and safe.

**thank you for reading, I do hope you enjoy! review please, if you liked the story!**


	8. My first words

**Please read with an open mind, this is Seymour, after all. A character that is best described by many as horrific and at best: A pretty boy. This fanfiction is a way to enlighten those that believe he's just a mindless criminal. A way to show you that perhaps his past is reason enough as to why he goes on a killing rampage, mindless, heartless, and above all, depressingly sullen though Spira. Thank you for reading. Enjoy...**

Part VIII:

Guadosalam was an interesting place. Although, at times even Seymour felt like a foreigner there; he was always baffled by how beautiful it was, especially at night. The city seemed to be encased perpetually under a tree's shade and within the tree itself. Doors into the trunks of small trees would lead under the earth to vast dining halls and the earthy homes of the Guado people. Colors rich in green and purple, gold and yellow adorned every part of Guadosalam: drapes and ornately carved chairs and beds, of course made out of wood, and even the people themselves seemed to be made of the same beautiful colors and enchanted timber.

The people walked as if they were made of air, gliding gently along their paths in swaying motions. But nothing could compare to their eyes, crystal in reflectivity and color. Though their colors and bodies were matte in finish, their eyes shone with a luster much to that of diamonds and rare jewels. Yune thought that maybe it was because of their rare insight, and strange heritage and history. If there was one thing that Guado people were most connected, it was their nature and their lineage to the spirits and trees.

So, one late afternoon, with the idea in mind to help Seymour recover the lost respect of his people, Yune dressed quickly and ran to his room, where she hesitated at the door handle. Was it too forward of her to walk in without knocking? Had the previous night been erased by the rising sun? Yune felt suddenly anxious and more worried than she had been when she had the first idea in her room to run up the stairs to awake him.

Yune lost herself in thought, her hand lightly touching the handle of the door. Her eyes glazed over in the memory of the night before, when Seymour held her shoulders and kissed her forehead lightly. Her mind escaped happily to the beauty she shared with him…

How beautifully innocent the act was – how wonderful the feeling… she finally realized, to finally find someone she was in fact, truly in love with; it was the greatest feeling in the world for her, and she wondered then how she could have ever been living without it.

Her hand slipped from the door handle but not from her own movement. She looked up, startled as the door opened by itself, a tired looking Guado peeking behind the carved wooden edge. She smiled, embarrassed that he found her here in front of his chambers, without any real reason to call upon him other than really, just to see him. She felt silly and out of place all of a sudden, putting an uncomfortable hand to her cheek.

The sun was setting in the skylight above his room, and Seymour allowed her in, with a beautiful smile. He seemed more awake as Yune rushed at his bed instinctively, to remake what his sleep had done to it. He laughed as she fretted over the silk comforters, arranging the pillows neatly before he took her wrist firmly to stop her in the act of her mindless organization.

"Your Grace – Seymour – I…" She trailed off as she realized her own silly actions and how they made the statue of perfection in front of her shake with silent laughter.

"Please, Yune… I don't want you to be my maid anymore – I was tired of it ages ago." He confessed, with a half smile playing on his lips, "I would rather you never had to work here again…"

Yune's expression turned to ice as she realized what he was saying: Did he want her to leave? Were their actions too forward last night in the Spring? Had she gone too far by touching his beautiful features? A frantic fear lumped in her stomach: "Do – do you want me to leave, Your Grace?"

Seymour looked at her incredulously: "What are you talking about?"

"I'm sorry about last night – it was – the feeling… I…" Yune's face dropped, and fresh fear showed itself in her eyes. Was he disgusted with her after all? Where would she go, without her home here in Guadosalam? She'd lived here for so long, what would she do, without seeing Seymour's face every evening to give him breakfast and hot tea? A sudden loss of purpose filled her entire being as she edged away from the beautiful Guado that towered above her.

"Your Grace…" Yune bowed low, unable to find the words that would help her.

"Seymour." He corrected, with folded arms, a grin creeping up on his lips.

"Pardon?" Yune looked up at him, confusion in her glassy eyes, "You're not… mad?"

Seymour laughed.

"It's not funny."

"Yes. Yes it is." Seymour corrected again, pointing at her.

"Well! You scared me!" The sudden confession startled her as soon as she spoke it.

Seymour's laughter faded and he smiled warmly, comfortingly, "What on earth are you scared of?"

Yune couldn't quite put a finger on what she was scared of – it was more of a feeling that arose in her without a real reason behind it. Telling Seymour all of a sudden like that made her wonder herself what prompted her outburst. She tried to put it in words for him, and for herself: "I don't know what these feelings are in me… I don't want to loose them though. I think of scared of that…that you don't feel the same…"

Seymour looked down on her with complete acceptance. His gaze was one of acknowledgement and understanding. All she needed was to look into his eyes and know that he was feeling the same. But her eyes lingered on his feet.

"It is scary for me too, Yune. Believe me when I say, I am very scared of loosing you."

Seymour knew he would loose her in his inevitable death from the final summoning. But even with such resolve, knowing this scared him. He smiled suddenly, aware that this was no way to act; he had to be strong and focus on the present, or the future would be full of regret.

Yune smiled in return, shaking her head slightly: "Wait… how did you know I was at the door?"

Seymour seemed a little embarrassed, "I don't know, to be honest. I just – I woke up and felt like you were near."

"Is that normal?"

"I don't know – it felt normal to me – but it felt wonderful, to know that you were outside my doorway. I had hoped already that you would see me earlier tonight."

"Why?"

"I have something to ask you, Yune." Seymour took her hand in his, affectionately playing with her delicate fingers in his own long and pointed ones. Seymour looked at Yune, seriousness crossing the corner of his lips as he spoke her name; reminding Yune of the first time he had ever called her name with stern inflections.

"Yune…" Seymour trailed off, aware that her eyes were full of hope and pleading. He could not help but loose his train of thought when looking into her deep eyes. He wondered what was hidden there… if he would ever unlock her secrets. She seemed so full of them…

"Yes, Seymour?" She closed the distance between them, holding his hand with both of her own, looking up into his cerulean eyes, waiting for his next words with subtle excitement.

The sun set with colors of pink and orange above them, shinning in through the skylight. Seymour lost his words as he pushed his fingers of his other hand through her russet hair. The silk strands fell through his fingertips, her eyes closing from the comfort she felt when around him. She looked as intoxicated by his touch as he had been the night before from hers. Her breath let out gently when his fingers caressed her jaw line, following the supple curve of her check to her bangs, pushing them idly away from the closed lids of her eyes.

Seymour looked at her, a feeling of completeness enveloping his entire being. When could he have ever hated this creature? That loved him with equal eagerness as he? If there was one being, with the same need to be loved as he: it was she. She had been far from home as a child _as he had been_, cast away _as he had been_, never truly loved, _as he had been_. Yune and Seymour were two halves of a whole that belonged to one another. Amazing how here, in this lonely mansion, had they found each other, almost completely by accident, and because of unfortunately dreadful circumstances.

His hands tightened then, around hers, awakening his responsibility to her: "Yune, what made you come so early?" Though what Seymour really wanted to talk about was her, how her eyes were beautiful, and enchanting him with every glance she passed in his direction.

Yune snapped out of her trance that Seymour had put her into with just his slightest touch. She came back to reality with a sudden realization that she _did_ have something she wanted to talk to Seymour about. Though, to Seymour's dismay, it was not about them:

"Your people."

"What about them?" He asked, a little disappointed. His hands dropped to his sides.

"I want them to love you." She said, her eyes looked at him with complete seriousness.

"Why? It seems rather futile. They do not like hybrids of their kind, apparently." Seymour's words were of disgust. He turned from her then, and faced the window to the Thunder Plains. He was obviously upset, and Yune walked to him cautiously.

"Yes, I considered that." She smiled, "That's why I thought that we could go out tonight and greet them, individually, rather than as a whole people. I don't think you should generalize."

"Are you MAD?!" Seymour released her hand that she placed on his, "Going out by myself is bad enough being who I am, but with YOU? A HUMAN?"

Although Seymour made no insult at the term 'human', Yune cringed never the less at his words: "But I thought that if you showed them the beauty I see in you…"

"Only you have seen it! Only you!" Seymour brought his hands to his temples, seeming to force the very thought of facing the people of Guadosalam out of his head. It was too much to bear: the insults, the side glances, the rumors that he knew would arise if he dared to step foot in front of them. He had been hiding for so long, been alone for so long, that the fear of his people multiplied over the years, made it something more than it might have been on the outside.

Seymour looked at Yune's repentant face, suddenly filled with the need to make her happy, feeling that if he did this for her, she would be happy with him. He wanted to please her, even at the expense of his own sanity.

"Alright." Seymour muttered, looking out into the Thunder Plains. The rain pelted the wavering glass window.

Yune looked up hopefully, rushing to his side, "You really want to?"

"Do I have to be honest?"

Yune smiled, taking his hand, "No."

That night, before it began to be too late, Seymour and Yune walked outside, for the first time, through the front gates of the estate. It was an odd feeling for them both, standing hand in hand, as the purple doors closed behind them. Had they even lived in this place before? Seeing the normal trails of Guadosalam was eerie from this perspective. Usually their views of Guadosalam were from the high windows and ledges of the Great Tree. Never had either one of them been so close to this side of Guadosalam, that for a moment, they looked at each other in fear. Had this been such a good idea after all? Yune smiled with a tinge of worry, but led him anyway to the first door she saw. She was determined to help Seymour, even if at times the circumstances were difficult to face.

In Spiran writing inscribed above the door in glittering gold paint was the word: "Medicines".

The door was unmistakably part of the trunk of the tree itself, carvings of workers and medicine men working on the green and yellow door. The carvings seemed to come to life, every detail made with such delicacy and precision. The hairs of the Guadan men and women working seemed to flow with life, though they were still. The wood carving on the door must too be made of life, like this city.

Through a small shimmering window, a warm glow of a lantern was visible. Yune peeked inside, never letting go of Seymour's hand.

Then, as they both held their breath nervously, she pushed the door aside and walked into the quaint little shop.

A little bell jingled at their arrival.

The smell was uncanny of potions and elixirs, revival medicines that guardians and summoners, and passing travelers would buy for aid.

As usual for a merchant, he greeted hello but stopped short in his path, still as the tree his ancestors were born from. His eyes fixed on the two in the entranceway. He said nothing for a long moment, and Seymour cut the silence with his silky voice, "Sir, we are here to greet you a fine evening." The nervousness in Seymour's voice was hard to detect.

Yune looked up at Seymour's face, never hearing such a beautiful tone emerge from his lips before. Was this a language that only the tree-people in Guadosalam understood? Although the intonation was beautiful and unmistakably Seymour's, she understood the words beneath the silky and fluid inflection. She was surprised at her own comprehension, why could she understand this liquid language he spoke now?

Her thoughts were interrupted when the shopkeeper suddenly smiled and rushed at Seymour's feet, bowing. Seymour looked at the merchant with as much confusion as Yune looked at Seymour. What in the world was this man doing? Didn't the Guado people despise him for all these years?

The shop-keeper looked up at Seymour with eyes that looked as though they might cry through their almost wooden-like lids, "We have not seen the Young Master in many a year – we were hoping each day and night that you would return to us with open arms, smoothing the anger you felt you had for us."

Seymour was surprised: "Anger?"

Yune and Seymour looked at the shopkeeper on his knees with confusion. Yune looked at Seymour without words, afraid to speak in this vulnerable moment.

"I have no anger, it is you who holds anger and hate for me…" Seymour's silken words slipped from his mouth like ribbons, "Hence, do not play with me so, Merchant."

The eyes of the Guadan man looked up into Seymour's own troubled eyes in disbelief at his words: "What? Where have you been so long that you do not understand the minds of your own people?"

"I beg your pardon sir?" Seymour backed away toward the elaborate door in vague understanding, "When was it made aware to you that I was angry at my people?"

"Is that not why you have been locked up in your estate for all these years?"

Seymour grit his teeth.

Anger seemed to overpower Seymour's usually calm and somewhat controlled emotions: "I was _afraid_ to see my people! My father told me that you hated me!"

The shopkeeper rose to his feet in attention as another customer walked through the door behind Seymour.

"Excuse me, Your Grace." The shopkeeper bowed and attended the customer who was surprisingly, to both Seymour and Yune, human in appearance. He had dark red robes with a high grey collar and a white wine jug at his hip. Strangely enough, even though Guadosalam was not bright in anyway, he wore sun-repellent glasses on the bridge of his nose. A streak of grey peppered his hair and his scruffy appearance arose suspicion among the two that stood there in the doorway eyeing him. His left arm was hidden in his crimson robe, relaxed lazily as he selected his merchandise with haste. Seymour and Yune looked at him in astonishment. What was another human doing here? Weren't humans despised by the Guadans?

The shopkeeper was very polite to the middle-aged man and helped him purchase the right elixirs and potions for his journey that he spoke minimally about. When the shopkeeper inquired as to where he was headed, the man looked at Seymour and Yune as he passed through the doors and said in a deep smoky voice: "Just passing through."

Distracted by the smell that lingered in the room after his departure, Seymour noted a familiar scent on him, much like the odor of the Farplane. He had only visited it once with his mother when he was young but the smell that came off the man arose the memory of the place immediately.

The merchant shopkeeper came to Seymour idly as the man left, though Seymour's gaze was fixated on the door in disturbed confusion. Yune tugged on the sleeve of his robes to get his attention, "Seymour, what is it?"

Seymour looked at Yune then with the eyes she knew too well, concern sweeping his expression: "Nothing." He smiled, but looked again at the shopkeeper with question returning in his fixated stare.

"Your Grace, I am again, happy that you have returned to us. And you are welcome to my home any time you like. My wife will be pleased to see that you have returned to your people with somewhat open arms."

Confusion overtook Seymour's face as the shopkeeper bowed and began again to rearrange things on the wooden shelves, seeming to be a bit happier at Seymour's arrival, but distracting himself with his work none the less. He was a quiet Guadan, after all.

Yune looked at Seymour: "I thought that you said they hated you?"

Seymour looked at her, a little worried, "I don't understand it either… why do they think I hid from them because I didn't like them?"

"Sir?" Seymour interrupted the Guadan from his work, "Are you saying that you, and the rest of beautiful Guadosalam, believed I abhor you and that is why I never emerged from my home?"

The merchant nodded deeply, "Yes, Your Grace."

"But – I never hated my people!" Seymour's voice had a tinge of remorse in it, unaware that he had pulled away from Yune and walked toward the shopkeeper, bowing at his feet, "My father, perhaps with his own shame of his son, told me Guadosalam hated my kind…"

The shopkeeper gasped, trying to raise the seven-foot Guado Prince from his feet with little effect, embarrassed by the reverse in rolls Seymour took so unabashedly.

"Forgive me," Seymour kept his head bowed, his fist pressed to the floor, in the act of pleading for forgiveness, "I meant you no ill will my brother."

With sudden compassion filling the air, the Guadan shopkeeper, with no rank or place at all, placed his long branch-like hand atop Seymour's blue, silken-stiff hair, "You have already been forgiven. Now, leave this shop and get some rest, it is quite late." The kind smile that the merchant displayed was filled with honor and respect as he lifted Seymour to his feet. The edges of his wooden like face crinkled with age at the rare expression. Seymour towered above him, strikingly different from the tree-like man hunched before him. Yune stood in awe.

The shopkeeper was suddenly aware of Yune's presence. His sharp green eyebrows rose in her direction and then looked at Seymour with understanding. He patted Seymour on the shoulder, a pleased look in his deep green eyes, "I hope with all my being, that the two of you find your greatest happiness."

Seymour bowed to him, then took Yune's hand and walked toward the entrance of the small, cramped little shop. Before exiting, he bowed again to the shopkeeper, who in turn, returned the gesture.

They returned to the estate without venturing further into Guadosalam, having had as much surprise as they could endure for the night. Wordlessly, they ventured to the woods of Macalania through the strange path, and for the first time in their returning there: holding hands.

There was a much-needed rest from words that caused their silence, the both of them only looked at the water of the Spring in simultaneous silence and reflection on the night's occurrences. After a moment, Seymour looked to his side at Yune, smiling softly at her concerned expression. She was worried for him.

"What's wrong, Yune?"

"I'm just…confused." She admitted, still staring out at the glassy reflective water.

"I see." Seymour hummed. He couldn't disagree – he was more confused than she. Why would his father say something like that? Was he so ashamed of his own son that he would trick him into believing that he was hated by his own people?

"I just – why?" Yune walked toward the water, letting go of his hand, "I don't understand how this enormous misunderstanding can be made okay so easily… it just seems so… I mean – you were there!" Yune turned to him, her eyes questioning, "How can you forgive and forget? And so easily?"

"It is Guado way." Seymour smiled.

"But – I don't understand!" She shook her head in frustration.

Seymour walked to her, arm outstretched, "You must understand, my Yune, how easily it is for us to forgive when we know the other is full of truth and sincerity."

"But how could you know something like that?" Yune asked, bewildered.

"We know because we can feel the emotions easily between beings as humans can never comprehend." Seymour touched the edge of her sharp chin and pulled her face up to see his, "This is how I know, with certainty, that the reason there was a misunderstanding was not because of hatred from him or his family, but because of my own human way of developing hate over time in my own heart."

Yune stood for a moment, transfixed by his eyes, focusing on his words and what they meant. Some things that he mentioned were too hard for Yune to understand at first, and at times, she would return to her bedroom thinking about them until nightfall the following night.

He fascinated her, by his meaningful words and his ability to be so absolving. He was half Guado, after all, she surmised. It was no wonder he was naturally philosophical and truth-seeking. Though, he was half human, and she could see where the natural human quality of suspicion and isolated behavior came from. Maybe it also had to do with the pain of loosing his mother that he was fixated on being alone? Or the fact that his father never made him feel so great about being a half-bred Guado? Jyscal was not really the kindest man and was so obviously a horrible father that Yune seemed to slightly understand where Seymour's reclusive nature came from after all.

Wanting to lighten the mood, Yune spoke up: "I suppose now you can be happy that your people love you."

"Yes."

Seymour, however, was staring into Yune's eyes longingly, happily smiling without the usual stress clenched in his jaw. His answer seemed to end the conversation about Guadosalam and all the people in it. His eyes looked only into Yune's, making the rest of the world and all the people in it disappear. The gurgling of a nearby stream was the only sound other than the glittering water of the Spring that kept their minds on the earth. Seymour grazed the collarbone of Yune's shoulder and pressed his hand around her thin arm, staring lovingly into her now spellbound eyes.

She looked up at him, feelings suddenly fluttering in her stomach at the proximity of Seymour's body to her own. She blinked slowly, rapt in the feelings they shared in that moment.

Seymour looked down at her, leaning closer to her face, smelling the sweet scent of her hair. Her eyes stayed captivated to his as he pressed his lips sweetly on her soft pink cheek. Yune's arms wrapped themselves around Seymour's waist in a warm embrace, wanting without knowing why, Seymour to be closer to her. As his lips parted from the flushed skin of her cheek, he looked down at her in silence.

Feeling again for her shoulder, and with the other hand brushing a stray lock of hair away from her eyes, he passed a hand in front of her face, her expression calming instantly. Her limbs felt strangely week and powerless, butterflies erupting in her stomach as if scared from a tree abruptly. Strange feelings bubbled in Yune, wanting more to be with him. His eyes looked down unto her, the corners of his lips arching in a smile. _How beautiful,_ he thought, _How gracious Yevon be_.

"I love you." He whispered.


	9. Al Bhed? Why Al Bhed?

**PART IX**

I do not own FFX: if I did… I'd have Seymour in my room every night.

Please review – I get hits – but no reviews I know who you are and so do you! You want me to keep updating? Friggin' say something! ENCOURAGEMENT HELPS!

Much love – and enjoy!

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Yune's eyes widened at his words but softened just as quickly. Just as silky were his words then, as they were that night in Guadosalam, in his strange tongue and for a moment she wondered if he had spoken to her in his language. She looked at him, at the hand on her shoulder, with idle fingers stroking the skin of her collarbone, at the soft smile playing on his lips. She looked at his shoulders, hunched slightly so his face could lean closer to hers. She looked at his eyes finally, resting her own on them and examining closely the blue and black depths. What was it that she loved about him? How beautiful his eyes were when they looked into her own sometimes sullen ones. Or how he protected her from her own lonely demons that haunted her past. Or how when he talked of his mother, the sharp features of his face would soften into fuzzy memories. Sometimes his happy smile would make her heart soar when he greeted her at his door…

…Her eyes lingered on his for a long moment and whispered finally to him: breathless: "I love you too, Seymour."

Almost with a sigh, Seymour leaned down to her again, intoxicated by her smell, her hair, her eyes, but more over: her heart. It opened for him when no other heart would and he could hear its genuineness, its truth beating in her fragile chest. He leaned toward her face, trailing his lips on her eyelids, following the line of her jaw, and edged closer to her awaiting lips. Unsure of what to do, looking into her eyes questioningly, longingly, and remaining there for a long time before he placed his lips softly, carefully, upon hers.

She gasped under his lips and Seymour stilled her against him, and feeling her relax, he continued, both their eyes closing, this new, strange action between them becoming more familiar as he searched the subtle curves of her face with his hands.

As she eased into him, her arms reached up toward his face, and she felt with new senses the contours of his features. His hand pressed against the small of her back, pushing her body closer to his, and his other was gently running his fingers through her hair, settling at the back of her neck to give her support as she lifted her face to meet his.

Their lips parted breathlessly.

Yune rested her head against his chest, bent forward to meet her height. They wrapped their arms around each other and listened to the spring for a long while.

Then, without warning, Seymour lifted Yune up and spun her around, laughing happily as she protested with little balled up fists against his broad chest. Her dress trailed around like a violet wing until he set her down, taking her hand and kissing it in little pecks continuously.

Yune giggled, pretending to be royalty with a muffled laugh from Seymour.

Holding each other's hands, Seymour finally looked at Yune seriously through a smile, "I wanted to ask you this before…"

Yune looked up at him with smiling eyes, "Yes…?"

"I always want to be with you, Yune."

"But I'll always be with you…" Yune tried to continue but Seymour placed a gentle finger to her petal soft lips.

"No. More than forever." He paused examining her expression, "I want to be bound to you."

Yune's eyebrows rose in question, "Bound?"

"Will you be my wife?" He straightened, with new purpose. Pride filled his entire being at the very words associated with marriage.

Without thinking of the repercussions, she answered quickly, and without hesitation:

"With all my heart, YES!"

"I don't want my father to know, however…" Seymour trailed off, "If he knew I had fallen in love with a human, let alone someone he hired as my servant: he would destroy us, I know he would."

Yune stiffened, aware now of the consequences of marrying into his small family. His father was never really nice to her at all – and she never even saw him but maybe _once_ since he'd hired her two years and three months ago. She looked perplexed, perhaps even troubled, and Seymour asked her what was wrong. A hesitant hand rested on her shoulder.

"Maybe we don't have to be married formally to be together? Maybe a promise that we will always be with each other?" She tapped her lip unconsciously in thought, "That way, we won't offend your father and stir the masses…"

Seymour nodded slowly in agreement. He smiled down at her.

"A secret marriage? How do you suppose we would do that?" Seymour asked with a crooked smile. He was apparently very worried at defying the laws of such a binding ceremony. It was against what he believed but if it would help things, he might consider it.

"I'm not sure. When I was living with the Al Bhed – I saw that there was really no ceremony – just an exchanging of personal items that meant the world to the other person. None of us even saw the exchange, really. And then, afterwards, a great reception!" Yune smiled at the far away thought, reflecting on how distant it now was, "It was rather nice… they always seemed so happy during the celebrations…"

Setting aside the blasphemous ways of the Al Bhed, this young girl before Seymour meant more to him than anything, and finally looked down at her, after battling for a moment at the thought: "Then… there is something I want to show you."

He guided her, hand around hers, back to the estate.

Upon returning to the great house, Seymour led Yune to his room where he retrieved an intricate silver box from under his heavily rooted and twisted bed. He set the medium sized box atop his freshly made bed and stared at it for a long time before opening it. He wondered for a moment if this was worth giving to her – but surmised that this would be more meaningful than anything he could ever give her, save his own life.

He sighed, looking up at Yuna from where he crouched, and then back down at the box.

Yune was at his side, a hand gently resting on his broad shoulder as he kneeled at the side of the bed, examining what lay before him. It seemed to Yune that he was pondering whether or not to open the box. Even considering it seemed like an enormous effort.

As his elegant hands lifted the sides of the box with tentative fingers, Yune peered inside curiously. The box was lined with a sheer red fabric that shimmered in the dull light of the room, and glimmered when beams of moonlight scattered across it. But it was not what the box was lined with that interested Yune and stilled her beloved beside her – it was what the box held; a long necklace with round beads of shimmering blue and other long cylindrical beads of auburn. The necklace must have been a meter long, but what surprised Yune was the color of the blue, sparkling like they were on fire, seemingly self-illuminated.

"Beautiful…" She whispered, mesmerized.

Seymour turned to her, picking up the beads carefully from the box and showing her more closely, "You see… these were given to me. They're magical." Seymour watched the expression in her eyes when she looked at him in disbelief, "I do not lie. They glow like this because they are materia, given to me by them." Seymour pointed to his chest; opening his robes to reveal the complex tattoos adorning him that Yune now realized were there. She had always wondered absent-mindedly about them.

"What are they from?" She asked, touching his bare chest. It sent a shiver down Seymour's spine at her gentle caress. He closed his eyes, clasping her hand to quell the urge inside him to forget all else and smother her with kisses.

Seymour continued, opening his eyes: "I was dying. Dying in the filthy waters surrounding Baaj Temple. I didn't know how to swim to get out of that place and I had no guidance from my mother to help me." Pain swept his face, "I was alone, dehydrated, and had not eaten a crumb in days, my magic abilities were low at this point, I was lost.

"But, to my amazement, a pair of sea dragons emerged from the murky waters and nudged my limp body around the floating piece of debris I was holding shakily onto.

"I was not scared of death, even though I was young. And I suppose now that I think about it, the swimming dragons sensed this. I cannot say for sure what happened and how I arrived at the banks of Guadosalam… perhaps they carried me all the way home, recognizing a few of my features as Guadan."

Seymour shrugged, unsure.

"As they put me on the sands, I remembered the sound of the waves crashing against the jagged rocks and the two large water dragons leaning over my tired body. It did not seem as though they were going to eat me, rather, they looked at me with what I could sense as… _concern_. They had saved my life, and lay across my chest these beads of materia, in hopes I suppose, that their healing powers would save me…"

He put the beads around Yune's neck, kissing her cheek with care, "I'm giving these to you now. As my promise that I will love you forever."

Yune was speechless, trailing her fingers up and down the length of the beads with careful hands, admiring each stone and glittering piece with adoration. She had never seen something so beautiful, let alone been given anything like this before in her life. She never had much money – and never any friends that cared enough about her birthdays to bless her with something as beautiful as this.

Seymour's eyes smiled with happiness as he looked at her expression of gladness. She looked up at him finally, "I've – I've never been given anything before in my life… this is much… much too beautiful and meaningful to you – I don't know if I can accept it…"

But Seymour silenced her lips with his own, whispering against her breathless mouth: "It is yours. As am I." His hands griped her shoulders in a tight grasp – almost _needing_ in the way he handled her. His hands trailed down her slender arms and settled in her shaking hands.

She looked up at him with adoration and happiness. She received his kiss, and his gift, wrapping her arms around his towering shoulders. His heated breath lingered on her lips, his own lips moving down her neck. He cradled her neck to the side, finding the nook behind her ear and kissing it, sliding his lips down to her collarbone.

"Wait – Seymour." Yune's haggard breath broke his desired, impassioned movement, his eyes meeting with hers: "Seymour – I want to give you something."

"Anything," He sighed, kissing her cheek, her ear.

"Come with me." Yune untangled herself from his grasp, his arms reaching out towards her instinctively to keep her to him. She smiled, bringing his hand into her own, and led him from his room to hers.

"In all this time, I've never seen your room." Seymour smiled.

"You lie." Yune said, seeing right through him.

"What do you mean, 'I lie'?" Seymour smiled.

They arrived at last to her room, the small doors were pathetic looking compared to Seymour's grand entry-way to his. She opened the doors timidly, and smiled at Seymour's faked expression of surprise.

"You can't fool me, mister." She played.

"What ever do you mean, my lady?" He took her by the waist, bringing her to his embrace, breathing in the scent of her, her eyes closing with drunken feelings…

"Seymour, what's gotten into you?" Yune looked up into his eyes through her own half shut lids. She was failing miserably to suppress the feelings that arose inside her whenever he caught the moment to touch her so intensely.

"Forgive me, Lady Yune. It is hard to now control myself around you. I must touch you all the time – it is rather: 'what have _YOU _done to _ME_.'" Seymour laughed and released her unwillingly as she pushed herself from his arms.

"You've been in my room before, Seymour." Yune's voice was almost serious.

"Yes."

His confession caught her off guard.

"Well – why were you in my room?" She demanded, flushed.

"Well, you know the answer to that, do you not?" Seymour's hands were clasped behind his back, in a displayed effort not to reach out and touch the soft white skin of the beauty before him.

Yune blushed madly, remembering the time she woke in the middle of the night to see Seymour sitting near her bed silently. How long ago was this? In the dark she remembered seeing his face, dour with tears. He had come in her room only to have company from his own nightmares and loneliness. It must have been a year or so ago…

She looked at him again now, in the small light of her room, with pity.

"Do not look at me like that." Seymour inhaled. He walked to her, his back straight: "What was it that you wanted to show me, my Lady?"

Yune shook her head and looked around her clean room for the bag she hid under the dirt of the floor. She bent down near her bed and dug it up with gentle fingers, avoiding the dirt rather daintily. Her hands arrived on a leather bound satchel with an emerald leather drawstring. It was covered in mud and appeared to hold nothing special at all. Seymour looked on curiously, waiting to see what was hidden in this dirty little bag.

"This was my mother's. I've worn it every day since I was small. That is, until I came to work for you, I was afraid it would get damaged someway or another…" Her words trailed off as she walked up to Seymour, opening the drawstring and taking Seymour's hand. She turned his palm up, dropping the item into his awaiting palm.

A delicate silver necklace fell like water, with a slinking noise, into his open hand. At the center of the fragile chain were three flowers, and one in the center, rather larger than the other two, tear-dropped shaped and dainty, with one diamond in the center of its petals. A simple design, but to Yune, it was her most treasured memory, and her only one, of her mother.

A tear arose from Yune's eyes, "It…"

Seymour looked at her, eyes full of worry, "I cannot…"

Yune shook her head, her face smiling, and wiped away the tears that trickled now down her cheek, "Now with our exchanged gifts, we have to have a celebration!"

Taking the necklace from her and clasping it carefully around her neck, Seymour spoke to her, kissing her cheek, "Wear this, to remind you of your mother. I know too well what it's like trying to forget."

Yune took the materia necklace Seymour gave to her, and placed it around his neck, having some difficulty with his hair getting in the way. He laughed quietly, "Thank you."

"These will be our gifts, okay?" Yune smiled.

Seymour nodded, "Your mother's necklace looks better on you anyway."

They laughed shakily.

"So does this mean we're married now?" Seymour asked, taking her dainty hand and placing it in his.

"I suppose so, according to the Al Bhed."

Seymour suppressed a grimace, which Yune noticed.

"Common now, don't be that way." She smiled. She nudged him in the shoulder.

"That necklace that was given to you… it looks wonderful on you, Seymour." Yune smiled, trailing her fingers down the length of it, stopping just as it reached his belly-button.

Seymour smiled, despite himself. Even in the dim light of her room, he could make out the hesitant pleading in her eyes. Taking her hand, he kissed it's palm gently, caressing her cheek, "I promise then, to love you forever."

Seymour submitted to the idea of this simple marriage, though it was hard for him, being as religious as he was.

Yune smiled, leaning her head against his hand, "What shall we do to celebrate?"

Seymour squeezed her hand firmly, leading her toward the door of her small chamber, and taking her to the kitchens of the estate.

The kitchen here was beautiful, with skylights casting moonlight over beautiful kitchenware and strange appliances that cooked the household meals. It was strange seeing this place at night when no one occupied it – no noises from the cooks, no clanking of dishware and curses from the maids that hurried to take whatever food it was to the guests that came by the mansion. It was abandoned, lonely, and perfect for the two visitors.

Though Guadans were mainly vegetarians, this place had supplies on hand to cook meat for the many political visitors that came here. Many of them were not used to the strange cooking of Guadans. The kitchen had a vast assortment of supplies for everything an experienced cook would need to make a grand meal.

Seymour was rarely ever in the kitchen without Yune, and it surprised her to see that he had already memorized where each pot and pan was, each drawer for cutlery. And it made her happy that he was preparing, for once, his own pot of hot tea right before her eyes without her usual help.

His hand very rarely left hers, and while he waited for the water to boil atop the hearth, he smoothed the hair atop her head.

"What's this all about, Seymour?"

He didn't answer her right away. He was playing with her hair, gazing into her eyes without much thought of anything but what lingered behind them. Finally, after Yune passed a hand in front of his face, did Seymour smile, and with reluctance in averting his gaze from hers, answered: "Celebrating."

"By making tea?" Yune looked up at him incredulously. She fingered the necklace around her neck nonchalantly.

Seymour laughed at her crooked eyebrow, and pinched her cheek playfully. "Don't be such a stick in the ground."

"I think the term is 'mud.'"

Seymour ignored her and prepared the teapot with the tea. Sprinkling in the dried flowers and pouring the water gently in the top of the pot, he covered it and waited for it to steep.

"Well?" Yune prodded.

"Well. I'm celebrating. I'm going to make us tea, and you're going to come to my bedroom."

"Your bedroom?" Yune backed away but Seymour's hand remained firm at the small of her back, leading her back towards his body.

"Now, nothing to be worried about, Lady Yune." Seymour kissed her furrowed brow.

"What is _not _to worry about?" Yune was only a little worried with the way Seymour looked at her. His eyes were full of content, yes, but there was also that _need_ again. That _hunger_ that appeared in his eyes when looking down upon her. It was hard not to be just a little concerned with the way he looked at her.

"I want you to sleep beside me tonight. As my wife." Seymour tilted toward her face, inclining her chin to meet his serious gaze, "You're no longer a servant of mine. And you never will be again. I want you never to serve me again in any way. The only job you will have to fulfill is being my betrothed."

His serious complexion stunned her, but Yune was happy to hear his words. A smile crept upon her lips, "It'll be alright though, with you?"

"What my dear?" His lips found hers and caressed the line of her jaw, causing her to forget her question, or that they were even in the kitchen at all. His fingers trailed down her neck and her heart began to beat wildly faster.

"That we are that close…" Yune breathed.

"Of course. I want you to fall asleep beside me, as I dreamed so many nights that you would."

"You have?"

Seymour smiled warmly, reassuring her: "I'm sorry, forgive me for being so forward. Yes, it is true that I imagined you sleeping beside me many times… forgive me." His lips hovered above hers, and he breathed in her sweet breath. His eyes closed in a drunken way, allowing his senses to be swept away.

"There is nothing to forgive," She smiled playfully, her eyes just a bit concerned when he looked at her. "Common, let's take this tea and drink it upstairs together."

The night grew later, and a fog rolled in on Guadosalam as the morning hours begin finally to tick closer. Seymour and Yune finished the tea that he prepared slowly, watching the night pass, both quite embarrassed about what to say to one another, this being their first night that they would spend together, completely.

It was Yune who made the first decision to move toward Seymour across the room, who sat there, now blushing – very different from how he was kissing her so eager and aggressively before. He was suddenly aware of the predicament that he put them both in. He reassured himself: They had been alone many nights before, what made this night any different? Other than the fact that he proposed to her and now they were somewhat ceremoniously married, Seymour now felt the air thicken with tension. He watched Yune cross the room to him.

Seymour rose to his feet, moving swiftly toward Yune, who met his gaze with equal trepidation. It was different though, his eyes were nervous, and his moving toward her, though it was still graceful, was surprisingly mechanical for the man she knew so well. Yune relaxed, laughing softly at the half-Guado that towered above her – now so anxiety ridden about just sleeping next to each other, when before he was almost certainly ready for this.

Yune took his hand in her own, carefully leading him to the bed. They sat on the edge of the fine silk down comforter cover, looking into each other's eyes. Yune looked at Seymour cheerlessly, finding her words difficult to say. Seymour encouraged her with a caress on the cheek with the back of his hand.

"Seymour I – I don't want you to die."

Seymour was surprised by her statement – where had it come from? It was certainly not what he expected.

"But my love – it is so far away… You don't have to worry about it now." He moved closer to her, their thighs barely touching.

"I know but I can't stop thinking about it, Seymour." Yune looked up into his eyes with fresh tears brimming at the base of her lids, "I just – I will miss you terribly once you're gone. I would rather die than be alone in this world without you."

"We will make the best of our journey when the time comes. I might even be able to train you in your white magic abilities." He did his best to sound cheerful for her.

"But Seymour – what good is white magic to me when I cannot save you in the end?" Yune buried her face in her hands, her hair sweeping from her shoulders and covering her face.

Seymour looked at her. Her small frame was quivering with tears, too heartbreaking to bear. Seymour wrapped a long arm around her shoulders, bringing her to him in a tight hold. Her tears did not stop for a long while, Seymour letting her cry enough to where he lifted her chin to meet his eyes. Her sobbing slowed and quieted when she looked up at him: "The final Aeon needs a spirit."

"What do you mean?"

"They say that in order to defeat Sin, you have to call upon someone very close to you and use them as a sacrifice to bring the Aeon to life. This Aeon eventually becomes the next Sin."

"What are you saying, Seymour?" Yune asked, her hand cupping his jaw. She tried to make him look at her. She searched his eyes through her own watery ones.

"I am saying that when we make our journey together… I might need you." Seymour closed his eyes, bright, crystal like tears falling from his closed lids and upon his cheeks, "I might… I might need you."

"I would do anything you asked, Your Grace."

Seymour opened his eyes and looked down at the small girl who had grown to mean so much to him, her dark hair a little tangled, her crisp, light colored eyes searching his for his reply. Her subtly curved lips bent in a half-smile, encouraging his reply. He studied her face before continuing, looking down and away from her: "You mean more to me than any person has."

The wind battered against the window from the Thunder Plains.

"You are all I have, Yune… You are all I have. Please, make no mistake that I will protect you from anything that tries to hurt you! But…" Seymour looked into her eyes, searching, "I need you for the final summoning. It is _because_ you mean so much to me that I need you, and would want to fight for you, until the… the end."

"The end…" Yune repeated in a whisper.

Seymour nodded, almost ashamed of having confessed to her.

Yune was silent.

He looked into her down turned eyes, wondering if she would leave his chambers now, pack her things and head off to some unknown destination where he would never be able to find her. He became suddenly frightened and worried about what she might say next. But her words caught him off guard when she broke the silence:

"Seymour. I am… _happy_."

"What?"

"I'm happy that I get to be with you… because you will eventually need me. I suppose that is why I love you so much." She smiled and shrugged her shoulders under his arm: "It's because you love me enough that you would even let me fight the final battle _with_ you, rather than stand on the sidelines, completely helpless.

"I don't have anyone but you…" She whispered.

Yune wiped the last of the tears from her eyes and sat up. She stood in front of Seymour, who sat on the bed, his hand in hers. She looked at him happily, sniffing her nose: "I am happy."

"But…" Seymour began.

"No 'buts'!" Yune tried to be cheerful, knowing that someday she and him would no longer see this place again. She looked around the room, noting how very temporary it all was. She sighed with new found resolve and looked him straight into the eyes: "I am going to help you as best I can Seymour – and even try to learn how to be a better white magic user for you… that way if any fiend comes out and tries to harm you – you're going to have to rely on me!"

Yune put her hands to her hips, struggling to jokingly look accomplished. Seymour smiled, looking through what he thought was a façade: "Do not joke with me, my Lady. I know you are worried. I am as well."

He pulled her arm toward his body, and brought both his long hands to her face, pulling her to him. He kissed her strongly for the first time. She leaned into him, her hands curled into his chest. Yune allowed her body to melt into him, let herself flow into his kiss with as much ease as she could permit herself. Her hands opened, her palms resting on his well-muscled chest, as he embraced her tighter.

His lips pressed against hers earnestly, fighting back the tears that were welling in his eyes. _Don't leave me_, he thought to himself, _please, don't leave me._

Seymour's tears brushed down his face as he cradled Yune in his arms, laying her on his bed as delicately as a flower.

"No tears, my love." Yune reached up and touched his face.

"I love you, Yune, and I always will." Seymour kissed her hand that was reached up to meet his lips. He looked down at the beautiful human beneath him.

"Stay with me tonight, Yune."

Yune's wordless reply was enough, the back of her hand caressing Seymour's jaw line, pressing her index finger against his lips, attempting to silence his saddening thoughts.

Seymour shut his eyes, intoxicated by her lightest touch. He breathed in the scent of her fingers, opening his eyes to meet hers, "I love you." He whispered against her touch.

"And I you." Her head tilted when she smiled, just the way she did when he dreamed of her.

"Stay with me…" He leaned down to her and pressed his lips to hers.

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,


	10. I'll come back to you

Part X:

Part X:

Seymour's eyes narrowed. His father looked at him in disgust.

"Why on earth do you want to marry such a… a person, Seymour? She's human. Disgusting. Filth."

His words cut through him like glass. This was Yune he was talking about, and sure in the beginning he shared his sentiments but it was different now. Now, she was someone he loved, and to hear her spoken ill of hurt his ego as if it were he who was being degraded.

"You married my mother, and was she not human?" Seymour's voice was full of pleading. He wanted so the permission of his father to have a real ceremony for him and Yune. However, his father was being unreasonable, and when his father became this way, it was difficult to sway his opinions. _A man convinced against his will, is of the same opinion still, _At least, that's what Seymour's mother once told him about his father.

"That was different, my son." Jyscal waved a hand as he sat in his chair, at the end of the great dining hall table. He slumped his tired shoulders, "I should never have hired her."

"WHAT?!" Seymour bellowed. The rage kept dormant inside him because of Yune's good-natured ways was beginning to come to the surface. He breathed slowly, checking himself.

"You heard me. She's been far too influential on you. It's not good for us Guado to mingle with the other kind – I was wrong in choosing your mother for political gain as well. Just _look_ at what it has done to you."

Jyscal's words couldn't be more hateful, stabbing Seymour in the heart with their precision. Seymour suppressed his rage, bottling up the urge to use the magic his mother taught him against his father at that moment. His long fingers clenched so hard, the nails bit into the skin of his palms.

He breathed deeply, "I want to marry her, Father."

"No."

Seymour's jaw clenched at his father's firm refusal.

"Why!" Seymour demanded, his hand pounding fiercely on the hardwood table. The abrupt crash shocked Jyscal from his seat at the head of the table, and he rose with eyes fixed on Seymour.

"You should find a nice Guadan woman, Seymour." He raised his voice at his son, pointing an old, gnarled hand at his offspring, "Guadan women are more likely to please you, and I don't want our bloodline diluted any further than what I have diluted in _you_."

"Father…" Seymour hesitated. He was shocked at his outright hate he had for him. What had Seymour done to cause this anger in his father toward him? Just because of the blood that ran through his veins, it was impossible for Jyscal to sympathize with him at all.

Jyscal turned.

Seymour's eyes burned through Jyscal's back.

"I am terminating her. She will be gone in the morning." Jyscal wrapped his old hands behind his back, his gaze elsewhere.

"No! You cannot! I refuse!"

"I'm sorry, my son, but it is for your own good. You know this." Jyscal moved toward the door behind Seymour, never meeting his gaze as he tried to get past his obtrusive stance. Seymour reached out an arm to block his path.

"You can't father." Seymour's eyes fixed on him. No words can describe the hatred that filled his words as he spoke: "I won't let you."

"Seymour, let me pass."

"No, father."

"Seymour let me pass this instant!" Jyscal couldn't hide the tremble in his voice. What was he going to do to this huge half Guado that stood before him, rage building exponentially in him as he waited there for his acquiesce to his request to get married. "Seymour, you let me pass or I will have you –"

"Have me what?!" Seymour yelled.

Upstairs in Seymour's bedchamber, Yune awoke with a start, hearing the unmistakable voice of Seymour. Without thinking, she ran down the stairs, sleep still visible in her face and clothing. Her deep purple dress was wrinkled, and her hair a bit disheveled. As she ran down the stairs she tried to make sense in her mind of what might be wrong downstairs in the dining hall.

She opened the great doors to the dining hall, arriving at the scene.

Seymour was in front of her, blocking his father's way out. Her eyes moved from Seymour to Jyscal, confusion sweeping her face, as well as worry.

"Seymour, what's going on here?"

"Yune." Seymour turned, his voice becoming softer at her presence.

"You both have no right to be with each other!" Jyscal felt more powerful and authoritative when Yune arrived, supposing Seymour might not try anything if she were here.

"Excuse me?" Seymour turned on him, "You have no right to speak!"

"What are you talking about?! I am a Maester! I have every right!" Jyscal pointed to himself, attempting to straighten his already very curled back in his attempt to look commanding.

"Seymour, what are you doing? Why are you two fighting?" Yune walked closer to him, avoiding the loathing in Jyscal's eyes as she neared him. When did she change to him? Wasn't she hired to help Seymour?

"He won't have a proper ceremony for our marriage." Seymour replied, not looking at his wife.

"Are you telling me you two are already…" Jyscal's face hardened, and the woody appearance of his features looked like stone. "You leave my house, Seymour. You are no longer welcome here as a son of mine!"

"But! Maester Jyscal, you must understand!" Yune rushed to him, pleading with his firm, and unchangeable opinion on the matter, "Please, your Grace, you have to see-"

"I don't have to do anything you say!" Jyscal retorted.

Tears welded up in Yune's eyes, defeated. What could she say to sway the opinion of one who seemed so fixed in his position? Her shoulders shook, afraid of what she was about to do, how embarrassed she would be in front of Seymour at this act. But it was for the best – she didn't want Seymour to be exiled, not on her behalf, and not because of her love.

Yune bent down to the floor, and got on her knees before the Maester, her head bowed in uncertainty. She didn't know if this would work or even she would help the situation: "Your Grace, I want nothing more than to make your family happy. I have done my very best to make things happy for your son since you've hired me. Because of these current events, please I beg you, fire me, and I will never see Seymour – The Young Master – ever again by your decree. Just… don't disown your son, who loves, and admires you so."

There was silence in the great hall and it was palpable with its tension.

Jyscal looked down at the brown haired human who begged him so openly for his son's place in Guadosalam. He looked to his son then, uncertain of the expression on his face: was it love? Was it disappointment? He certainly was disappointed in his son. What a fool for falling in love with a human. They bring nothing but trouble, it was best to keep them outside of their city, and remain friends with an agreeable 'don't bother us'. But the girl remained on her knees, head bowed until Jyscal looked at his son, and refused her request: "No. I want you both gone."

Yune looked up, crushed.

Seymour looked at him angered more than he had ever been, the rage boiling in him like a volcano, ready to erupt unto his father with all his might. The tips of his fingers tingled with the power he was having difficulty controlling, the feeling of the fire and elements of black magic inside him aching to be released.

Yune looked in his direction, the fear spreading across her face.

"Oh no…" She breathed.

Seymour's usually light eyes turned dark, his hands raising before himself, shaped in tension and curled in the oncoming strain – the fire was coming, and there was nothing Yune could say to quell it, nothing she could do to calm his anger. She rose to her feet – arms outstretched in front of Jyscal, shielding him from the oncoming attack.

"Seymour! No!" Yune pleaded.

But it was too late – and the lightning escaped his control before he realized what she was doing. What a fool! Protecting Jyscal!

The Thunder crashed and rumbled the room around them as the bolt fled his hands and towards the two in front of him. It pierced both chests through, and both bodies fell to the ground, equally harmed in his attempt to kill only his father.

Everything happened in slow motion for Seymour. He watched helpless at Yune's falling body, her knees crashing to the floor. Her beautiful face… her beautiful eyes that he treasured so much – they closed in unimaginable pain. She looked at Seymour before falling to the floor, her eyes filled with confusion. He ran to her side, and side-glanced at his father, noticing he left for the Farplane instantly, his old, fatigued body unable to cope with the force of his power. But the young, stubborn girl in his arms was alive still, her hands reaching for Seymour's instantly.

He felt at her chest, the singed purple fabric falling apart in papery pieces around the wound. Her white skin was burnt black and the smoke arose from her, reminding Seymour of a small escaping spirit. "No. NO. NO."

Seymour's tears fell from his eyes without his control, "I don't know your white magic – I DON'T KNOW YOUR WHITE MAGIC!!"

Yune looked up at him, her eyes stern, "It's okay – I feel fine."

Seymour looked at her, and her eyes filled with silent new tears; she must have been in complete shock. She smiled at him, clutching at his hands tightly, attempting to cure herself, but the coughing began, and blood stained her pink lips into a splotchy, scorching red.

"No, save your strength!" Seymour pleaded, brushing her hair away from her eyes, but she didn't listen, and she continued obstinately. She coughed again, and this time looked helplessly into Seymour's unbelievably sad eyes. Her eyes closed.

"Did I… Did I help your father?"

"What?" Seymour looked at his father, his face dark, the blast knocked him far away from the two, and his back was half turned toward them.

Seymour shook his head.

He looked at the charred remains of her chest and the blood tarnishing the perfectly white skin of her cheek. Those cheeks, those cute cheeks that he loved to kiss in the moonlight of his room, where they would spend all their time talking and laughing. Those cheeks that would puff up when she was angry at him, and then stretch in a smile when he would pinch them. Her blood was an unfamiliar color on her white skin, and it brought the fear of loosing her quickly in his mind.

"Don't leave me, please don't leave me." Seymour begged, kissed her forehead, her cheek, her nose, her eyes. He knew it was too late to ask for anything regarding her salvation, but his words came from him regardless.

She smiled at his kisses.

"You're so silly, I'm not going to leave you…"

Her hands began loosening their grasp on Seymour's.

Seymour urgently looked into her eyes, "My love, Yune, stay with me! Please!"

"Don't cry." Yune opened her eyes, examining Seymour's crying eyes sternly: "Death is but a door, didn't you know?" She coughed and blood spurted across her soft, quivering lips, "Life is but a passing dream… but the death that follows is eternal…"

Yune smiled, nodding her head, "You see?"

The focus in Yune's eyes were lost and slipped down from Seymour's, as did her hands that rested on his. Seymour held his breath, waiting for her to continue. But he realized that she was slipping from him, her breath becoming shallower and shallower until her eyes closed finally, her parted lips silent in the death that finally took her from him.

Seymour could feel the light escape her body, that beautiful energy that he loved about her… that fire, that unrelenting urge to love him - it fled from her like the smoke that rose from her chest, and he embraced her still body.

"Yune?" Seymour's voice cracked, "Yune!"

Seymour hugged the lifeless form of his love, maybe if he hugged her, she'd come back to life and playfully laugh at him for believing that she were dead. He cried for his foolishness, his anger, his stupid succumbing to his fury – look what it did to her, look what it did to the woman he loved. The evidence of his stupidity lay unresponsive in his arms.

He lifted her off the rooted floor of the banquet hall.

The arms of his love were heavy with lifelessness, and gravitated to the floor as he rose, carrying her away from the room, forgetting all else entirely as he stared at her in his arms. Every footstep was mindless, drudging on aimlessly and following their own path to their final destination.

He walked the miles it took to reach Macalania Woods, where he thought perhaps the magic of the forest would wake her from what appeared to be a sleep that controlled the lifelessness of her body.

Denial.

Her head bobbed as he walked, "You'll see, you'll be fine Yune."

He arrived at their spring, looking around and wondering if maybe she would wake up, smelling the familiar smells and aromas of the trees and the flowers that grew here. The blue light of the surrounding forest reflected off her white skin eerily, where when she were laughing with him just a day before, he would have considered it beautiful. He examined her eyes, closed in eternal slumber, wondering when she'd give up her façade. But her chest was still, and she was growing colder and more rigid the longer he held her to him.

"Isn't it beautiful, Yune?" He walked toward the spring, and into the water until it surrounded them both. The water lapped at the sides of her beautifully white face, washing some of the darkening blood that stained her cheeks. He brought water to her shoulders, wiping some of the black ash from her skin. Her purple dress floated around them, bubbling in areas where air was unable to escape.

How beautiful she looked in the moonlight, and the water that sparkled around them. She was an angel, a beautiful woman sent to him to make him happy and cheer his depressing mood because his mother died. And now look where she was, dead in his arms. Dead because of him, just as his mother. Everyone around him, everyone close, they all ended up like this: lifeless and sacrificing themselves for him.

He wanted so to give everything up for her; his own life he would gladly give in return for her to live on, happily and free from all this racial mess that he brought upon her.

"I love you, Yune." He murmured, brushing the damp hair away from her face, "I love you, so, so much."

But she didn't speak to him; respond in her usual smile that covered her face at his words of adoration. Her head only moved up and down in the water's current. Her pink lips were beginning to turn blue. Her white hands floated and sank in the water, and Seymour realized with unhappy certainty the decision he had to make.

He had to send her.

He had one Aeon, which meant that he had some capabilities of a summoner, however inexperienced he was at it. He had to try, before her soul became restless and turned into a fiend. He shivered at the thought of his other half becoming something like that, but the thought of her disappearing hurt him equally so. He punished himself silently again, for his lack of control and anger.

But it didn't help – she wasn't going to come back no matter how much he hated himself for what he did.

He decided then to concentrate on the sending of her spirit. He wanted to visit her again in the Farplane, hold hands with her again and laugh with her again…

…He brought her to his chest, the water trickling out of her hair and splashing on the surface of the water. He held her close, closing his eyes and whispering in her deaf ears, "I'll come back to you."

Her body quivered and erupted in a beautiful display of pyerflies. They danced around Seymour in the water, causing the water to shimmer and dance, the light reflecting off of Seymour's now crying face. He laughed and cried at the same time, unsure of what was causing him to laugh. Had he had enough of death and sorrow? He finally broke down, the tears pouring down his angular face, falling into the water below him. He watched as the pyerflies dispersed into the air, following the path of one another to the Farplane, where he knew that she would reside peacefully once her spirit reached there. They flowed and spiraled through the leaves of the tree, leaving him there in the water alone for the first time in two years.

He remembered her smiling face that bobbed up and down as she jumped at the sight of him.

"Goodbye Yune."

But something caught Seymour's eyes. It shimmered in the water and was sinking quickly toward the rocky bottom of the spring. It was the necklace that was clasped to her neck. Why had it not faded with her? Seymour caught it before it reached the stones at the bottom of the Spring, lifting it up in the residing light from the pyerflies.

He held it close to his heart, "I will miss you, my sweet."


End file.
